The Key
by Counter Spark
Summary: The War’s in full swing, and as people find the line between good and evil growing hazier by the minute, a bookish girl and a bitter boy find that they may very well hold the key to the others’ life. DHr.
1. The War

**Title: **The Key

**Author: **Counter Spark

**Disclaimer: **I am not J.K and I don't own Harry Potter. If I did I obviously wouldn't be wasting my sodding time with this bologna.

**Summary: **The War's in full swing, and as people find the line between good and evil growing hazier by the minute, a bookish girl and a bitter boy find that they may very well hold the key to the others' life. DHr.

**Author's note: **I've nothing to say except 'read'. Do it. I dare you. Oh, also, this is post-HBP incase you were wondering. Enjoy!

----------------------------------------------------------

Hermione had never really 'liked' her job.

_Well_, if we wanted to be more specific, Hermione _really_ didn't like her job.

All right, let's be bald faced about it- she _loathed _it. She hated the blood, the death...the overall brutality of it all. But what she really _loathed _was the smell of it all over her. The smell of passionate and reckless violence is impossible to get rid of, especially if you were in Hermione's profession and around it much too often.

She had always wanted to be something..._inspiring. _Something people could look at and practically envision all the hard work she must've gone through to be _that _good. Anyone could work at the Ministry if they weren't brain dead...anyone could get a decent paying job in Diagon Alley.

The fact is that she wasn't just anyone, and any job hard-working Hermione Granger got, it had to exude intelligence- it had to be positively dripping with prestige. It would've been the perfect Cinderella story: Muggle-born comes from humble beginnings, is tortured at school for her social class, and in the end she's one of the most influential witches of the modern age (sans the whole Prince Charming deal- that really wasn't up her alley).

But _this? _

This job held no glamour, no need for brains or wit, no respectability- all that was required was a rudimentary knowledge of your wand and what spells were made for killing. _Anybody_ could be an assassin.

Sure, they comforted her in the daytime, but were they there in the darkness of night? Were they there in the blackness of her suffocating bedroom while the whispers of horrors long passed breathed their death songs in her ear? Were they there when she could hear the voices around her...when she could hear their pleads for mercy as she cast the final spell?

No, they weren't. Nor would they ever be. They (the Order) could tell her all day long how _necessary _death was in order for this battle to come out with good triumphing over evil; how _direly _important it was for them to dispose of the wickedness in the world. Yet, when it ultimately came down to it, wasn't this war just a full-scale bloody massacre; a show of two opposing sides that held equal amounts of fervor, belief, passion and above all _power_? What made them so _light _when they did the same as the dark?

It had been four weeks since the Killing Curse had been made legal to use in life-threatening situations. So, in a sense now, death was no longer forbidden...so long as the right people got killed. The past four weeks had seen the Daily Prophet simply unable to report the number of Killing Curses that had been used. Of course, only the ones that had led to the death of someone feared and infamous had been splayed on the front pages in bold, victorious ink: _"Bellatrix LeStrange Finally Silenced".._."_Two Lifelong Death Eaters Finally Brought to Justice"..._

Never did they cover the story of the crazy man who lived in Wales; the man who went berserk when his neighbor forgot to return the tie he lent him a couple weeks back and obliterated him into a scattered, grotesque mess. Now _that _ended badly.

And ever since then, McGonagall (oh sweet Transfiguration teacher, where have you gone?) had deemed it an inescapable fact that the Order had to adopt this new decree, for if they didn't, it would surely be used against them.

At first the nature-loving girl of yore had been strongly against it.

Then he died.

And ever since that happened, Hermione had thrown her lifelong convictions out the door and waited for whatever mystical or higher being to decide when it was her turn to be picked off like an insect on the battlefield. Life had suddenly become one long, swirling funnel of darkness, and she was just waiting to fall down and out of the hole at the bottom.

In fact, she was bracing for it.

--------------------------------------------------

"He's not here, Harry. And while we're at it, I've been meaning to ask you..._why on earth do you care?"_

His green eyes shone brilliantly in the dim overhead light surrounding the dismal and filthy dungeon as he quickly regarded Hermione and shrugged her off. "I have my reasons," he said lightly, casting a furtive look at the randomly scattered dead bodies; their glazed-over eyes staring up in anticipation at their newest visitors.

They had searched every cold body in this small, dank prison carefully and with great detail. Searching for identification, for a sign...sometimes even a familiar face. The most of them were associated with Voldemort- Death Eaters galore. Some were just a couple of poor muggles who got caught up in the mix; that miserable look of confusion and ignorance splayed all over their pale-cheeked faces.

Harry was acting more downcast than usual, but at least he hadn't gone completely bonkers yet, although some part of Hermione sensed that that day wasn't too far off. So, being the friend that she was, she tried to be as soothing and gentle and generally pleasant as she could...for Harry's sake. Besides, some part of her couldn't deny it- her problems seemed to pale in comparison to his. And being with him during his struggles made her stop focusing on what a mess her life had become and focus on how she could prevent her best friend from loosing his sanity. Hermione bit her lip and continued to survey the bodies, her quick and snappish hands turning them over so she could get a quick glance at their face and snap a picture of them with the camera in her bag. For records.

Not before too long, the pair had searched them all- each and every one of them, and there had indeed been a few familiar faces. McNair, Nott..a couple of grim-looking Death Eaters they had seen before but couldn't exactly put a name on. The chubby, awkward teen they found in the corner though had been most upsetting, and even now Hermione's eyes wandered helplessly towards his final resting place.

Goyle's torso had been ended midway down by some sort of cinching curse...and then that was it. She shuddered, haunted by the devoid look in his usually mischievous eyes. "Draco must be _miles _from here, Harry," she said, once again broaching the topic that had been up in the air between the two all day. "If he escaped, he got away with Voldemort. And who _knows_ where he is." She paused thoughtfully. "I'm still perplexed by your caring of the situation, if you care to know."

Harry screwed up his face and shuddered spastically, obviously deciding to ignore her remarks. "Let's get out of here," he added very faintly as he tottered away from the scene looking pallid. Hermione followed him eagerly outside and onto the dewy afternoon lawn that stretched for miles before them.

Sadly she looked back at the death scene- a place that had once been lavish and glamorous. It had been a home. It had been the Malfoy's home. But, when the going got tough, and when Voldemort needed a hideout that sufficed all his needs, what better place than Malfoy Manor? A haven where the dark arts had been lustfully (yet secretly) worshipped for years.

And it wasn't like flippant Narcissa Malfoy could object- it wasn't like she could stare into Voldemort's cold and piercing eyes and say, 'Yes, you are the strongest and deadliest wizard alive, and yes, it _is_ a great mercy that you haven't reigned death upon my whole family, but I'm sorry, my home is off limits'? Some part of Hermione actually felt sympathy for the attractive, somewhat-young mother. But, all in all, she _had_ married Lucius and well...what could the woman have expected? She sighed.

The cheerful, sunny weather was laughing at them- she could feel it. But even then, neither one of them could really grasp the irony of it all. The sun was too bright for it to be a coincidence; it was mocking the tremendously dank situation they were in. Hermione studied Harry for a moment and touched his shoulder gently. "You all right, Harry?"

It seemed to take a brief moment for him to acknowledge her comforting voice for he had been missing in his own dark thoughts. "Er-yeah." Once again, he regarded her with those deep, sparkling-green eyes that seemed so utterly lost in things that she couldn't possibly fathom. And part of her was right.

Hermione thought it was downright amazing that Harry hadn't drowned in his misery already. She couldn't even _imagine _what he was going through without feeling nauseous or overwhelmingly dizzy. Not only did he, too, have to suffer the loss of his best friend, but on top of that was a big heavy weight that read 'Voldemort'- a creature that would be inevitably linked to him for the rest of his life, no matter how long (or short) it might be.

The two of them stood for a couple of moments, gaining their composure (mostly Harry), outlined in the cheery sunlight as they both looked upon the huge castle and the opening to the secret dungeon that contained mysteries and horrors immeasurable.

Her hand still resting on his shoulder, Hermione was more than willing to stand here as long as possible if her only remaining childhood friend needed to.

Come to think of it, she would do anything he asked of her. So they waited in a hazy silence. A couple of minutes passed by thickly before she asked with a hint of business; "Did you get all their names down?"

"Yeah," Harry added quietly, holding up the clipboard with a long piece of parchment holding the twenty plus names. For all the fallen that they couldn't identify, they had taken a small picture and attached it. For a moment Hermione thought it was normal for the pictures to not move.

Gently, she rubbed his shoulder. It seemed to hold all the weight of the world. "Ready to go back?"

He nodded, and in silence the two held up their wands and took themselves miles away from the haunting feeling of Malfoy Manor, grinning down on them with it's sick and evil grin.

--------------------------------------------------

She slid deeper and deeper into the porcelain bathtub, moaning and letting out the longest sigh of pent up tension. The aroma of lavender and other floral scents floated through the bathroom sweetly and into her system, making her forget for a moment how cruel the world was and how far and in-between pleasures like this could truly be experienced. She felt light and purely _wonderful _as the clean, fresh water soothed her battle scars and washed away the day-old sweat from her wiry and exhausted body.

Had it been years since Hermione had taken a bath such as this? I mean, a real hours-long, _luxurious _bath? For so long she had jumped into showers, barely giving the water a fair chance to hit her skin before she jumped out again. The last time she could remember taking a bath was at her old home in London where she lived with her parents. And that had only been when she was absolutely sure that she was home alone.

That was the only time she would even think of a bath; only when there was time for it to be enjoyed. Alone.

She sank into the foamy layer of bubbles, endlessly strewn atop the frothy hot water. She was worried about Harry- there was no getting past that. You could throw all the bubbles in the world on top of that and it would still be sitting there at the bottom, getting larger and larger and larger; more willing to explode.

Ronald's death seemed like ages ago, yet had it only been a week? Seven days since she had witnessed his broken body thrown lifelessly on the Ministry's elaborate fountain, directly underneath the humble house elf and the spurting crystal water? Six days since she had stood underneath the relentless summer sun, beating down on his casket? Five days since she found Harry broken down and sobbing in front of the fire at Grimmauld Place, looking more and more like a broken young man? The last week, she thought, stood alone like one long, tortuous year. Trying to forget about her personal problems, fighting for 'justice'...

Losing your best friend?

She had to leave Grimmauld Place and get a home for herself- it wasn't even a question in her mind. She was of age, and she had the means to live alone. Leaving Harry at Grimmauld Place was hard, but she knew it was best for him. She could tell he needed time alone to truly come to terms with Ron. Plus, it wasn't like she wasn't going to see him the next day at the breakfast table after she Apparated there, looking tired and hopeless while he dolefully picked at his morning meal?

And this place was nice...a storybook home. She wasn't going to lie- her parents had left her quite the hefty sum of paper money, in which she, of her own accord, had switched out for a due amount of sickles and galleons. This of course happened after she had convinced the two of them to leave the country for their own safety. Her parents, being oblivious of how deep the rabbit hole really went, fussed and fought, but eventually they realized that Hermione's pleads held some truth, and they had been wanting to retire to Florida before too long anyway. _And a war sure is a bloody good excuse, _she thought reasonably.

_And this bath? _She smirked. _Simply_ _to die for. _

Closing her eyes slowly, she drove the constantly-lingering images of horror from her head and tried to focus on how good she felt now; how light and feathery and simply dreamy. She absentmindedly grabbed a loofa and scrubbed her shoulder, washing off the caked dirt, watching as it slid like a mini-mudslide down her slick shoulders in into the frothy water below.

_Ding-dong._

Streams of bathwater splashed from the corners of her tub as she bolted upright, her wet, naked breast covered in white, shiny bubbles. _Who could that be, _she thought dazedly. _At this hour? _

_Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong. _This time much more urgently.

"_Honestly_," she groaned angrily to herself as she stood up, her garment of bubbles slowly disappearing.

Nearly slipping on the puddle of spilled bathwater, she grabbed her thick, blue robe and wrapped it around herself huffily. It couldn't be Harry- he would've let himself in. She shuddered a moment with the thought of her old friend opening the bathroom door and finding his best friend quite naked and asleep in the tub. _Weird. _

But, again, it couldn't be Harry, so that happening was out of the question. Quickly she checked herself in the mirror, frowning at her soaking wet, stringy locks. Oh well.

The ringing hadn't persisted, and for a moment Hermione considered returning to her bath. _Just check the door, _she thought exasperatedly. _If not you'll be wondering for the remainder of your bath whether or not there's some creepy guy at your door waiting to pounce. Or worse, _she thought, tightening the belt around her robe. With a start she remembered the new decree and grabbed her wand from the living room coffee table. Precautions such as these were necessary these days.

Drawing the wand closer to her chest, she approached her front door, inhaled deeply, grabbed the doorknob, jerked it to the left, and thrust it open in a single fluid movement.

She shrieked.

_Thud._

A limp and lifeless body lie still in her doorway, the front half of it over the threshold and into her living room. Whoever it was had been leaning on her door, for when she opened it she felt the weight of it as they were dumped onto her nice, clean carpet.

"Oh," she said lightly, pulling the body entirely into her living room and shutting the door. Despite the height and danger of the times, she couldn't help but pull a helpless person out of the cold. It was her nature. The rain outside was hammering mercilessly, and the body was soaking wet to the bone. Thunder boomed outside

Quickly shutting the door, Hermione sat down and pressed herself up against the back of her door, nervously staring with wide brown eyes at the shape of a person before her. Her heart was pounding as she touched their chilled shoulder, trembling. "Hello," she said, her voice weak and breathy. No answer.

Fearfully, she turned them around as so to see their face when her heart dropped out of her chest and onto the wet carpet. Hair so blonde that is was nearly white in strings covering his forehead, skin so pale and wet that she could see blue and purple veins strewn about all over his exposed face and neck...it could be no other. Frozen, she stared at the unconscious face of Draco Malfoy who lay silent and still, mouth slightly open, on her living room floor.

**--------------------------------------------**

**Next time: **What the heck is Malfoy doing in Hermione's house? How will Hermione react to seeing her childhood nemesis in need of her help? And _why _does Harry care so damn much? Find out in the next installment of 'The Fallen'!

**A/N: **I don't know about you, but I am liking this tremendously. I hate to toot my own horn, as they say, but I am sincerely liking what I've written. Hopefully you liked it, too- so much that you would love nothing more than to review me and relay these emotions (aka-PLEASE!) Don't want to be prodding, but I would very much appreciate feedback. Oh, and thanks for reading! (R and R!!)


	2. The Deal

**Disclaimer: **Yeah. I don't own anything. You know that millionaire J.K. Rowling? She does.

**Thanks for the Reviews: **They're my favorite thing in the world, reviews. Anyone who gives me them fills me with utter joy. 

**A/N: **Okay. Sorry I haven't updated this story in an AWFULLY LONG TIME. Gonna be honest with you- I really didn't have intentions for a second chapter. Truth is that I typed the first chapter a really, really long time ago and I stumbled upon it seven months ago and though 'what the hay, why not post it' and I did with no remembrance of where I actually had wanted to take it. But ever since school has been out I've been supremely bored and totally fixated on all things Harry Potter (this will be the summer to remember, my friends), so I figured hey, I might not remember where this story was going, but I'll take it somewhere new and exciting because I HAVE THE POWER! Yay. So, yeah, I really like this and I hope you will too. It's quite adult-y, more so than anything I've ever really done, but we're not treading M for mature waters yet. Whatever, just READ!

----------------------------------------------------------

"Malfoy?" She whispered breathily as she continued to stare at his limp, unconscious form, wet and unmoving on her living room carpet. Hermione, heart racing madly in her chest, knelt down beside him and stared at her old nemesis in rapt bewilderment.

She hadn't seen that cold, pale face for almost two years now, the last time being that infamous night where things had taken a sharp turn for the worst not only at Hogwarts but in the entire wizarding world itself: the night Albus Dumbledore ceased to be. She closed her eyes tightly, grimacing as the dark memories poured themselves into her over-crowded brain and flooded her thoughts with striking images of that horrid nightmare. The panic- the sheer terror of that night...it was all too fresh and overtaking. She could vividly remember everything about it-the smell of the rich and earthly summer breeze, the night sky illuminated by the green menacing glow of the Dark Mark- everything, right down to the last moments where she found herself standing above the dead body of her old, beloved Headmaster, still and certainly dead before her feet...his lifeless eyes behind his broken half-moon spectacles. Even now this memory held power, and even now she could feel the tears stinging at the corners of her eyes...

She shook her head. _Now is not the time, _she told herself firmly as she re-acquainted herself with the present. _Not when I have an unconscious and most certainly dangerous man lying on my floor. _Hermione stood back up and began to pace the room, twirling her wand between her slightly shaking fingers. She could feel her gaze wandering back to the man on her floor- that face that brought back so many (mostly unpleasant) memories.

He was almost completely the same- the white-blonde hair, the delicate yet strikingly sharp features...the only difference she could notice at all was the fact that he wasn't smirking or sneering (owing to the fact that he was currently incapacitated) and that he'd grown maybe a couple of inches. Other than that, he was the same Draco Malfoy- tall, skinny, pale, and most probably an asshole. _Oh, _she remembered as she tapped her chin with her wand. _He's also wanted for murder now. _

And that most certainly was a change to be noted.

The last Hermione had read of Draco while leafing through the now almost-completely biased _Daily Prophet _had been that he had become a very loyal Death Eater, and that he was wanted for the murder of a few unnamed Muggles and Ministry official Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was dangerous now.

He had killed.

"Who hasn't?" Hermione asked herself aloud as she quickly remembered the new decree that made murder legal (but only in the case of emergency, of course...whoever was in charge of that judgment). It wasn't as if she, the witch now pacing the floor with which was also accommodated by murderer, hadn't killed anyone before.

It wasn't as if she wasn't also haunted by the burden that murder brought with it...

She crossed her arms resolutely. "No matter," she said lightly, pursing her lips. Talking aloud always seemed to help her sort her problems. "He's a threat...a Death Eater!"

She even laughed a little bit for taking so much time to figure out what she was going to do. It was _plainly_ simple. He was a wanted criminal...take him to the Ministry! _And they call me a genius, _she thought as she approached Malfoy, who still lie motionless on her floor. It was what pure logic was telling her to do- and you could never go wrong with pure, straight logic.

But then it hit her. "Wait a minute...what is he doing at _my_ door_?"_

It couldn't have been coincidence, could it? Would a well-known wanted murderer be pacing the streets of London, looking for the coziest house to pass out in? And even at that, what exactly was his intention if he hadn't been aware to whom this house belonged to? Was he seeking help? Shelter?

She cast a furtive glance down at the Slytherin, lying oh-so-still. "The last thing Draco Malfoy would ever do would be to ask for helpfrom _me_." And it was true. He couldn't have possibly thought _she_ would help _him_. Her ties to the Order were apparent, and he had to know that the object of all his ruthless taunts and Mudblood comments wouldn't exactly warm her up to him. Besides, Draco had too much pride to ask a lowly Muggle-born for help. It wasn't at all in his nature. _Filthy cockroaches don't normally do that..._

So it was final. Regardless of his intentions or purpose, it was clear. She was going to take him to Grimmauld Place, and have Lupin or Tonks escort him to the Ministry (and then likely to Azkaban). It was the most logical thing to do. After casting a final glance down at the silent Slytherin, she sighed resolutely and walked briskly to her room, taking off her robe and throwing on some decent clothes. Yes, the situation at hand was certainly a dire one, she thought as she fastened the last few buttons of her blouse, but she wasn't about to Apparate to Grimmauld Place half naked and dripping wet. She still had _some_ dignity left.

She pulled on her pants and, clearing her throat, walked back to the living room and nearly screamed.

He was gone.

Instantly, she was pulled back to the wall, one arm locked tightly across her throat, another one digging a wand..._her_ wand...roughly into her cheek. Heart hammering, she tried to move, but he wouldn't budge; his grip was stronger than she expected. He sniggered menacingly behind her, his rough breath on the back of her neck- her back flush against his chest. Hermione shuddered.

_I'm such a fool_, she cursed herself.

"Been a long time, hasn't it Mudblood?"

She felt sick to her stomach...powerfully sick. "_Malfoy," _she half-whispered through gritted teeth. "_Get your hands off of me _now_."_

She heard him chuckle lightly behind her. "Don't be so glad to see me, Granger. You look..." He paused thoughtfully. "...Dreadful as usual. Although I might say, seeing you undress was a new _low_ in my book."

"You _slime," _she scowled, fidgeting in his grip. "I should've killed you the moment you passed out on my doorstep."

"Bookworm Granger _kill? _Believe me, you don't have it in you." He pushed her wand deeper into her cheek. "It takes a certain something I don't think you have."

Suddenly, Hermione's brain was filled with a very bright idea. "You don't think I've killed before?" Instantly and with great force, she thrust her leg backwards and rammed her bare toes into the warm landscape of Draco Malfoy's crotch.

"_Shit!"_

He immediately howled in pain, giving Hermione the opportunity to escape from his weakened grasp. But he still had the wand. Apparently, he knew this as well as he pointed it at her, gasping and glaring at her with pure murder in those silver eyes.

"_Merlin_," he said loudly, doubled over. "And I just wanted to visit you..."

She cast a worried glance at the wand he had pointed at her heart. He seemed to notice and smirked with mirth.

"_Hmmm_...Do you think getting a foot rammed into _your _crotch by an ungrateful Mudblood would make you angry enough to hex something?" His silver, glassed-over eyes were glued to her, watching her every move. "Because it makes _me _angry enough..."

"Malfoy," she said suddenly and quite loudly. He was silent in expectation. "Why are you here?"

It seemed as though he didn't expect a question like that. He faltered for a moment as Hermione continued, advancing.

"Because you _mus_t know I wouldn't help you, if that's what you wanted. Honestly, if you were coming here for any other reason than to kill me, you have no business in this house." She built up the courage to walk towards him, and for a brief moment she saw something oddly akin to fear flicker in his eyes. "If I weren't such a...respectable girl, I would kill you myself. Because believe me, Malfoy..." Hermione paused, now only centimeters from the man pressed up against the wall. "I _have _killed."

She saw that flicker of raw emotion quickly disappear in his eyes as he mustered a small chuckle. "Watching Granger try to be imposing...truly a laugh." Malfoy dropped his wand and smiled at her. "You're a tad more attractive when you threaten people- just a tad."

"Shut up," she said angrily. "And tell me what you're doing here in my home."

That flicker came back and disappeared almost as quickly. "But you'll laugh at me," he said with a phony, sarcastic frown.

"You're already pathetic enough to laugh at."

"Oh! One up for Granger," he said, still smiling at her. Hermione was filled with the strong urge to hex that smile off of his far-too-smug face. "You've really improved on your comebacks, you know. I'm impressed."

She folded her arms and glared at him. "Unlike you, I don't rely on bigotry for my jokes."

He seemed hurt by this. Or at least he acted hurt. "I'm not a bigot!"

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Okay, maybe I am, but still...you can't deny the fact that I'm inescapably clever..." Draco raised his eyebrow cunningly. "...And attractive." He traced the wand on Hermione's neck.

"You're disgusting." He laughed lightly as she continued to stare at him loathingly. "Malfoy, you still haven't answered my question."

"Which was...?"

"_Why _are you in my house?" It was then Hermione realized Malfoy's left hand, the one that wasn't holding her wand, was placed on his stomach, as if holding something in. She could faintly see the traces of red seeping through his fingertips stealthily yet surely. Blood.

Malfoy followed her eyes and then met with hers. "I got hurt," he said defensively. "Never seen a wound before, Granger?"

She chose not to answer as she read his eyes for any traces of truth. "Did you think I was going to help you?"

Once again, that momentary flicker. "I know your nature, Mudblood. You like to help people; you're understanding...you took in _that_ old ratty monster when no one wanted it." He motioned with his head toward Crookshanks, who was diddling with a dead spider in one of Hermione's armchairs. "I figured you of all people would try and hear me out before you threw me to Azkaban."

She pursed her lips tightly. "Well, you thought wrong." Hermione silently noted that the blood had now run between his fingertips and was starting to drip onto the floor.

Draco showed no signs of pain and continued to smirk at her. "You don't know anything about me; you know that right? Whatever you've read in the _Prophet, _whatever you think is true...you don't know the bloody half of it, okay?" He shifted a little against the wall and sank down a millimeter- Hermione noticed this keenly. "I've seen things..." He shuddered, and Hermione noticed a sincerity that she'd never heard before enter his voice, as well as a genuine look of horror enter his eyes. "...I've seen things you wouldn't _believe_. Sick, twisted...morbid things. The Dark Lord has put me through hell, and here I am in your living room willing to spill it all out with the danger of him doing things you couldn't even _imagine _to me when I had my back turned. I've _betrayed _him, Granger, and all I'm asking is for you to hear me out and take whatever I have to tell you in exchange for some...doctoring of sorts."

She advanced on him. "You have information?"

He nodded, looking paler than ever as he sank down a few more centimeters. "You can take me back to your bloody Order or whatever..._Merlin this sure is degrading_...and I'll tell them everything I've got to tell them. Hell, I can even give you _locations_." His silver eyes bored into her. "I'd never thought I'd say this, but please...I need your help."

Hermione raised her eyebrow and studied him for a few moments. This wasn't adding up. Prideful Draco Malfoy betraying the most powerful wizard in history and risking the most grotesque and horrible of deaths to ask a Muggle-born for help to mend a simple wound? "Is that all that's wrong with you?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at the wound now dripping blood freely through his red-stained hand.

He frowned. "A little more than that..."

"Who did this to you, Malfoy?"

He grinned cleverly. "And Ithought you didn't care."

"Why can't you just answer my questions, Malfoy?"

That flicker now completely overtook his eyes as an air of defense completely surrounded him, erasing the aura of smugness that he was dripping in moments earlier. "I don't have to tell you that."

"Yes you do." Hermione shook her head. "We _are_ making a deal here, right?"

"The deal's already been laid out, and that particularly was _not _in the deal. I thought you were supposed to be bright, Granger." The smugness most certainly had returned. "So do you accept?"

Hermione frowned. "I have to have a sense of what's wrong with you. I can't really see anything other than _that," _she glanced down with wide eyes at the wound which was now releasing steady ribbons of blood that dripping into a good size puddle on her clean carpet, "but then again, you're wearing a cloak, and that would hide any other abrasions."

"Would you like me to undress, Granger?" He raised his eyebrows and smirked. "We'll be even that way." Hermione watched in disgust as he ran his eyes up and down her, grinning. "I must add, Granger, that I lied before...you don't look half bad naked. At least for a Mudblood."

She sighed. "Do you think calling me a Mudblood is going to win me over, you prat? Quit being smug and answer my questions, Malfoy." She animatedly rolled her eyes. "I swear, you can never just shut your mouth and answer a simple question." Hermione paused and shook her head, ignoring the delighted smile plastered on his evil face. "What else is wrong with you?"

His narrow jaw was set in determination. "Information, Granger. Do you want it or not?"

"It depends what I'm taking on in exchange for it." She shook her head. "I don't want to be busy all day doctoring _you _up when I have much better things to focus on than a wounded ferret."

He slid down another centimeter and an actual grimace of pain overtook his face- his mask was slipping. "Who could use some information, eh Granger? Let's think. That ruddy Order of yours? All of those innocent people you work so hard to protect?" His eyes narrowed. "_Weasley_?"

"Don't you _ever_ say his name you pathetic little bigot. I swear I'll kill you right now if you say the wrong thing." Her heart was now beating faster than ever at the mention of Ronald, tears welling up inside of her chest.

He looked gravely at her. "All I'm saying is that a lot of people could benefit from what I had to tell you. All you have to do is pay me back and try to make sure I don't die."

"Die? Don't tell me bigheaded Malfoy's going to die from a stomach wound."

"It's a little more than that, love. Now make your decision. You'll never get a word out of me if I'm dead." He was clenching his jaw in pain as she considered him, sinking lower and lower down the wall until they were equal in height, both pairs of eyes directly across from each other.

He had a point. No matter how much she loathed him, how much she purely _hated _him, he was right. The Order was running direly low on information, and if they ever hoped to defeat Voldemort and return the world to it's normal state, they would need to know the things that someone like Malfoy had locked inside of that brain of his. It was inescapable. She was still considering it all before the image of Harry filled her mind, looking out over the fields near Malfoy Manor with not a glimmer of hope in those deep, green eyes that held all the weight of the world.

_God I hope I'm not making a mistake here..._

She sighed resolutely and stared into those expectant, silver eyes across from her. "Deal."

"About time," he groaned as he completely slipped down the side of the wall and fell to the floor, wincing in pain. "Now it's your time to hold up to your end of the deal, Granger."

Hesitantly and mustering up all of the will within her, she knelt down beside him and withdrew her wand from his limp hand, reaching out toward the pale hand covering his wound with her other. "Move your hand, Malfoy."

There was so much blood now- she noticed this as he moved his now completely red palm from his stomach and let her look at the wound more closely.

"This is all? Really, do consider this a fair deal, Malfoy?" It appeared to be such a simple wound; even he could've probably performed the spell to cure it. Surely it was painful, but only a simple spell was required to mend something of this caliber.

"Take off my cloak." He said it weakly, so much more weakly than his usual tone that it nearly shocked Hermione. She had never seen Malfoy let down his guard like this. But then again, they had made a deal, and even he knew she would stay to his word.

Fear and hesitation trickling down her fingertips, she gently did as he said and removed the heavy drape from his form, revealing what was underneath. She had to force down the scream itching in her throat.

He smirked feebly. "Told you it was more than that, Mudblood."

----------------------------------------------

**A/N: **Huh? You liked? I just thought now was the time to tell you that after book seven is released there is probably no way this story will fit in with the canon storyline, but hey, it's fun. We all like fun. Now, I always say this and you don't know how much I mean it: If** you review, I will update this soon. **The supply really depends on the demand. I have to have some sort of drive to write these stories other than my own personal amusement- otherwise, I feel kinda pointless with the whole thing. Just saying...if you really do enjoy reading this story as much as I do writing it, then please tell me you do so I know people are reading it. Otherwise, there's not really a point. Sorry if I'm being too forward, but I've had this problem on so many of the stories I've loved writing...not saying I don't get reviews, but the amount dwindle and dwindle until I have nearly no motivation for chapters ahead. So please, review this story if you could. I will love you forever. THANKS!


	3. The Debate

**Disclaimer: **These plots are too genius to belong to J.K. Rowling...are ya kidding me or what (THIS IS SARCASM)?

**Thanks for the reviews! **Seriously, thanks oodles and boodles...and even poodles. I tried to reply to everyone who had any questions or comments, so yeah. Thanks a bunch.

**A/N: **Oh...dear. I cannot tell you how happy I am to see this story doing relatively good. I really do have high hopes for it. Now, as for the following chapter, I hope you enjoy it immensely. I would say something witty or charming but hey...just read it, mmkay (ha...that's funny if you say it like the guy from South Park). With that said, on with the literature!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione sat under the low, dreary lights of the dirty kitchen in Grimmauld Place, trying her very hardest not to look into those glassy, green eyes that shone through the shadowy half-light like two bright orbs of sadness, directly pinpointed and unmoving at her. Harry had been very upset by the whole ordeal- this was apparent- and the way that Lupin and Tonks were staring at her in a sort of undecided hesitance wasn't very helpful either. But then again, she had made a decision...and the last thing she was going to do was go back on her word, even if it was with a slimy, good-for-nothing, mortally-injured ferret. She sighed as Harry shifted in his seat again, piercing eyes glued in her direction.

"So you made a deal...with _him_?"

Crookshanks purred fitfully in her lap. "Yes Harry, I did." She glanced around at the maddeningly unsure expressions of Lupin and his shape-shifting girlfriend, seated closely beside him. "_Honestly, _I do believe that we've got an advantage here."

Tonks shared a worried glance with Remus and clutched his hand. He squeezed it tightly and continued to listen attentively to the young witch seated directly across from them, his keen eyes dancing in the dim light.

"Yes...," Hermione continued at length, "Malfoy actually _staying_ with us here will be a downside, not to mention the amount of time that will have to be consumed by his..._afflictions..." _She cleared her throat and continued, "...But we're gaining an upper hand here! As soon as he regains consciousness, we have use of a seemingly endless well of knowledge. There's no saying what inside information he can give us."

"Yes Hermione, that is true," said Remus Lupin looking very tired and uncertain, "But I find the key word in that previous paragraph was 'seemingly'. I believe you and Harry both are aware of certain qualities young Draco possesses, one of which being a history of trickery." Tonks straightened up at this, alarm reading through her alert face. "For all we know, Draco could have very minimal information regarding Lord Voldemort."

Tonks gasped.

"Sorry, dear. Let me rephrase; for all we know, You-Know-Who could've been using Draco as a bargaining tool for Lucius, like some sort of toy. I doubt he's truly _involved _with the inner workings of the Death Eaters, seeing his age and magical inexperience."

"He is."

Harry's voice seemed to startle the rest of them as they turned to face him in attention, almost having forgot his presence in the room. Tonks ran a trembling hand through her pixy-ish hot pink hair that practically glowed in the dismal kitchen. "How do you know this, Harry?"

He stiffened in his chair and for the first time that night tore his eyes away from Hermione. "I just know..._trust me."_

Hermione had been meaning to ask Harry about their encounter earlier that morning when they had been searching in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, looking for the dead. He had expressed a certain interest in Malfoy that he had declined to talk about then, and even now as the man in question was lying unconscious one floor above them, he still seemed positively cement on keeping the reasons of this interest to himself. It was odd, and the way Harry's eyes seemed to become alight whenever Malfoy was mentioned shook her a little bit...something was off, but the last thing it appeared that Harry would do was tell her exactly what was going on...he always seemed to have secrets. Hermione frowned and shrugged, reacquainting herself with the topic at hand.

"Well then there's no more to it- as soon as he wakes up-"

"Hermione, when is that going to be exactly?" Tonks folded her arms resolutely across her chest. "Not downplaying your skills as a Healer, but I'll be shocked if he makes it through the night. The damage on him seems, to a point, irreversible."

Hermione chuckled slightly and ran her hand through Crookshank's soft, ginger fur. "Nothing is irreversible."

Closing her eyes, she recalled the sight of horror as she had unveiled Draco at her home- the cuts, the lacerations, the discoloring, the _blood_...it seemed to go beyond face value. Her knowledge in the field of Healing seemed to point to something much bigger and more powerful than cuts and scrapes...he was cursed. _That _was inescapable.

She frowned. _And a curse received by the darkest, most powerful wizard in history might be a little more than difficult to work out, _she noted as she bit her lip in thought. Then again, Malfoy had never disclosed who had actually performed the curse on him, but she figured it was most likely the Dark Lord himself_. Only a curse from a wizard with such power as he would make Draco want to come to _me _for help..._

Sighing, she opened her eyes again, the images of horror swimming away. "I'll need more time with him, that's for sure, which by the way, I don't particularly _relish," _she darkened, "but all curses _can_ be worked out. Of course I'll have more to go on when he wakes up, but for the time being I've got him on a powerful Healing Draught that should prevent any further damage for the night."

Tonks shook her head and looked pleadingly at her werewolf love beside her, who also seemed unconvinced as his eyes were cast towards the floor in general disagreement. She spoke with conviction. "I don't care if he's my cousin- he's a Death Eater, Remus. And the _Prophet _says that he's wanted for murder. This goes against everything the Order stands for-"

"We housed Severus Snape, didn't we?" Harry spoke up again, appearing angry. The snappish quality of his voice seemed to send of shockwave through the room. "Did _that_ go against what the Order stands for?"

Lupin tried desperately to reason with him, a paternal sparkle in his tired eyes as he reached out towards Harry. "Severus fooled us, Harry. We didn't know about his ties with Volde-" He paused at the horrified look on his girlfriend's face.

He never got to finish his sentence. "HIS NAME IS LORD VOLDEMORT!" Harry shouted in anger as he stood up from his chair and kicked it over forcefully, banging against the sink and knocking over a few misplaced plates, which shattered noisily on the tile floor. "I swear it's not that painful to say!" The dim lights flickered from his anger.

Sirius's mother was instantly awakened in the adjoining room ("_You mongrels, half-breeds, Mudbloods_!"). Harry, face flushed, quickly swung open the door and shouted a spell at the canvas that shut her up quickly. He turned to face them again, livid, wind rushing through his hair.

"_Harry_," Hermione said soothingly, standing up and reaching out towards him. Crookshanks shrieked and bounded off of her lap, winding along the floor away from the broken glass.

"Don't 'Harry' me, Hermione. I'm sick of this- I'm sick of all of you living in _fear_." He advanced on the shaken-looking Tonks, who had what appeared to be tears shining in her large, animated eyes. "Say his name, why don't you? You'll feel much better when you do!" He laughed cruelly. "He's practically in your _bloodline_!"

Lupin stood up in front of Tonks, blocking Harry's view of her and looking a little unnerved. "I daresay Harry, you've proved your point."

"Obviously I haven't, because all of you are too petrified to even utter the man's name!" He turned towards Hermione, a desperate look in his breathtaking, heart-wrenching eyes. "How will we possibly defeat him when we can't even say his _name!"_

Lupin walked towards Harry's trembling form and placed his hands firmly on his quaking shoulders. The tattered-looking man looked straight into those pain-filled eyes and tried his very best to calm him down. "Harry, not everyone can be as strong as you...for many a name carries much more than a label." He closed his eyes and silently debated on what to say, as if he may be treading on unsafe waters. "Harry, you have to understand...His name carries memories, and memories have more power than you'd think."

Harry shook his head with tears in his eyes. "He's just a man. A _man. _He's no monster to me." Tears started to stream uncontrollably down his face as he broke into sobs. "_Just a man_..."

Tonks burst into tears as Lupin embraced Harry, shielding him as the boy sobbed into his chest, repeating the same phrase over and over again as though by doing this Lord Voldemort's power would diminish and the world could live in harmony without his horrible head hovering over them. Unfortunately, this was not the case, and Lupin cautiously brought the sobbing boy to the floor, holding him tightly and trying his best to comfort him.

Hermione, heart beating rapidly inside of her chest, walked out of the kitchen and quickly up the dilapidated stairs, reaching the upstairs' hallway and pacing back and forth with her hand cupped over her mouth, unsure of whether she were about to be sick or burst into tears. Shaking all over, she entered the farthest room down the hall and sat down in the chair beside the bed, staring into the darkness with her heart galloping in panic. She let the silence overtake her, trying her best to become one with it, desperately willing it to take her away in it's quiet solace.

Hermione was there for maybe five whole minutes before she remembered she wasn't at all alone.

After the buzzing toned down in her strained and frazzled mind, she became aware of the steady breathing in the room as well as the weathered and not-so-pleasant smell coming from the bed. _Of course..._

_Malfoy. _

She swallowed hard and continued to breath into her palm, afraid of pulling it away for fear of what might happen. _No matter, _she reasoned, staring in the darkness at where she supposed Malfoy was lying, fitfully unconscious. Hesitantly and still shaking all over, she pulled away her hand and immediately let out a loud, high-pitched sob that resonated in the empty, black room. Fearfully and out of shame, she clapped her hand over her mouth again and stared once more into the impermeable darkness, tears leaking onto her trembling fingers. It was too much. _It's all too much..._

Her best friend was falling apart. There was no denying it at this point. And it was getting worse.

Every time she thought about that look of hopelessness in those deep, inescapable eyes it made her chest burn in indescribable pain. Everyone has a limit- everyone has a sort of implanted line in them that dictates what can and can't be crossed if one wanted to save their sanity, and Harry seemed to have crossed his personal line weeks ago. The way he carried himself, the way he looked at her with pain practically dripping from his eyes, the hopeless manner in which he spoke..._the way he explodes in his anger, _she noted to herself. The whole ordeal back in the kitchen had been nothing more than an eruption of rage brought on by _pain. _By _pressure_. She sniffled.

_And there's nothing I can do...he has the weight of the world on his shoulders and there's nothing I can do..._

She wanted so badly to walk down those stairs and help him; to comfort him or just hug him until the pain just ebbed away. But it wasn't that simple. She'd tried that approach so many times, but whenever she tried to comfort him he grew ashamed and isolated himself. There was no use in it anymore; it was better if she just stayed away, as painful as it was to awknowledge. Lupin was the only person who could calm Harry down a bit, and Hermione sadly accepted the fact that there was nothing she could do to help him, her only friend.

_Absolutely nothing..._

Normally in times of crisis there was a certain book she could revert to or certain pages she could cleave to, but sadly this wasn't the case, unless someone had recently written a book called _How To Save Your Best Friend From Falling Apart and Meeting a Certain Doom _that she wasn't aware of. She continued to breath heavily into her palm, ribs burning from inescapable sobs.

A crack of light appeared across the wall as the door was slowly creaked upon, bathing Malfoy's toes in white light. Hermione glanced down at Crookshanks, who had innocently followed her into the room. His big, yellow eyes were alight with what appeared to be confusion and weariness; his big, bushy tail dragging along the old carpet. Slowly removing her hand and biting her lip forcefully to contain the rack of sobs fighting to get out, she picked up her precious cat and placed him in her lap, stroking him softly and closing her eyes. Heart still thumping in her chest, she sat like that for about a half an hour, letting the normal calm wash over her again before she realized how late it was. Carefully handling the sleeping cat in her hands, she stood up to get out of the room when-

"A-_CHOO_!"

Fear trickling inside of her, she turned back towards the total blackness to where Malfoy was supposed to be. She could hear him stirring and muttering under his breath, his voice sounding heavy and drugged.

"W-Who's there?" Again, a tumultuous sneeze.

Fumbling and dropping the shrieking Crookshanks, she pulled out her wand and said shakily, "_Lumos" _as the room was filled with harsh, almost bluish white light.

Illuminated, the two of them stared at each other for perhaps a solid minute before Draco muttered sleepily, casting his eyes around, "Damn bloody cat..._where's the cat_...?" Sitting up and meeting his eyes again with Hermione, he looked around again more alertly, yet his voice still dripping with the lethargy that resulted from the very potent-draught she had given him earlier to keep him asleep. "Wait- where am I...?" He sneezed again as his eyelids drooped heavily. Crookshanks scampered out of the room.

Hermione almost didn't know what to say. She folded her arms. "Draco..._are you allergic to cats_?"

The question seemed to take him hours to compute. Eventually, he grunted in reply, eyes dead and unengaged. "Hate cats..." He blinked slowly and looked up at Hermione, who still stood flabbergasted. "Hate Mudbloods..." Draco looked around again. "Hate this _house_...barely a house at all.."

Hermione swallowed hard and desperately tried to think of what to say next. This would all seem very comical to her if it wasn't for the fact that the last thing Draco needed to be at the moment was conscious. She pursed her lips. _And I'll let that Mudblood comment slide because he's heavily-drugged, _she thought with disdain. He continued to look at her with those barely-alert eyes until she decided to end the encounter the only way she could fathom how. "Goodnight Malf-"

He was already asleep.

She tutted in annoyance and rolled her eyes. _Well, at least I have _one _symptom. He's allergic to cats. _

Although this might've seemed important at the time, Hermione doubted that a strong allergy to felines would have anything to do with the dark curse that had been performed on him by You-Know-Who. Sighing, she was preparing to leave the room before she noticed the bed sheet was now pulled down to his chest, revealing some of the horror beneath. Hermione shuddered and tried not to remember the full images as she approached him quickly and pulled the bed sheet up to his neck. _Much better..._

Even now, as she left the room and entered her own a couple doors down (trying her best to ignore the sobs still drifting upwards from the kitchen downstairs) the image of Malfoy sitting against the wall of her home with unbelievable amounts of blood trickling down from countless random slashes and cuts wounds still held a good deal of power- it still unnerved her tremendously, and she doubted her sleep tonight would be uninterrupted by flashes of the horrific sight. When she had first seen him, a small, terrified gasp had escaped from her as the evident fear shined brightly in her eyes; the sympathy coursing through her veins at the damage done...

And he had uttered one sentence to her before he passed out, obviously reading the look on her face: _"Don't pity me, Granger." _

Truth was, it was hard not to pity him, even with the fact remaining that he was an insufferable asshole. Hermione couldn't think of anyone, except for maybe You-Know-Who himself, who would actually _deserve _that amount of damage and pain- it was unworldly. What could Draco have possibly done to deserve something like that? _He's practically harmless, _she thought, sitting down on her bed and carefully removing her shoes. _Nothing more than a hurtful boy_...

Spells like that were reserved for the wicked- those who had done evil, evil things. _Yes_, she reasoned, _Draco claims to have killed before_. But so had she...so had _so_ many in this fearful time. And although he carried that daring, almost-evil persona with his name, she knew how far from the truth it really was. She'd known Draco for _years- _studied his behavior, knew his reactions...everything he did seemed to be done in protest or for the sake of image. Someone like that wasn't truly dangerous..._were they? _

_Someone like Draco doesn't deserve _anything _like that, _she thought, the images flooding her brain again. She could feel the pity stinging at her, the general want to be on his side and help him through the pain.

_But he doesn't want that. He hates the very _air _I breathe. _She chuckled lightly as Crookshanks entered her room again, eyeing her warily with his expressive yellow eyes. _And I don't exactly enjoy his company..._

It didn't matter how much she wanted to be on his side or how much she wanted to see the best in him- the fact remained; she was Mudblood Hermione Granger and he was a lowdown, disgusting ferret whom she couldn't trust as far as she could throw him. It was simple- a business transaction of sorts. She had a deep knowledge in Healing and he had information. That was all.

_And he's an adult, _she thought, slipping out of her dirty, stained-with-Malfoy's-blood clothes and pulling on her long nightdress. _Whatever got him into that situation is his own fault. _

But even as she pulled the covers over her head and cradled Crookshanks in her arms, the images kept coming back, visions of the horrors beneath his cloak and the flicker in his eyes that seemed to hint towards something deeper. With the agonizing sounds of Harry's tears resonating through the walls and Hermione's guilt panging at her chest, she dozed into a meager sleep.

Midway through the night, she awoke with a fright, the nightmarish noise of someone screaming ringing in her ears- images of blood and violence swimming in her brain. She sighed and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Another nightmare.

_This is what comes with murder, _she thought, hugging Crookshanks tightly. _They never tell you about this._

_--------------------------------------------------------_

**Author's Note: **Yeah. So there was that. Sorry about the lack of Malfoy being conscious, other than the whole drug-fueled cat comment. I was thinking about adding more but I figured the Malfoy and Hermione interaction should start later. Or at least my wonderful beta Stratagem Blue told me that! Oh, what a beta she is. Let me tell ya. (silence)

Anywho, thanks for reading my story...I cannot explain to you the joy that arises from the reviews you guys send me. The sheer joy! So...ahem...yeah...I like joy...I don't know about you guys, but I like it. (R AND R!) Thanks a bunch.


	4. The Vow

**Disclaimer: **Oh no, you caught me red handed! I'm not J.K Rowling at all! I've just been drinking my polyjuice potion to look like her! Don't send me to Azkaban like Crouch! PLEASE! (Wow, how lame am I? But seriously, I don't own anything except this somewhat twisted plot)

**Thanks for the Reviews: **My goodness, do I love you guys or what?

**A/N: **New chapter! Yay indeed. I would just like you to know that this chapter is the longest so far, but very many interesting things happen, thus I doubt you will mind. I like it lots...very important plot developments, I must say. Sorry it took a little longer to update- I was out of town all week sans-computer and then had a mild, two-day bout of writer's block, but alas, here is the newest chapter, fresh and ready for your eager eyes! Enjoy!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione was slowly and groggily awakened by the odd sensation of something warm shifting and moving beneath her feet. Blinking widely with Crookshanks fitfully meowing beside her, she opened her bleary eyes and saw something she truly did not expect to see at the end of her bed...

A cross-legged Harry Potter staring at her with an odd sense of importance shining in those green, all-expressive eyes; the newly-risen sun shining in brightly behind him through her thin, ratty curtains, making him appear like some sort of near-sighted deity.

"H_-Harry?"_

The sight of him staring at her startled Hermione slightly, to say the least, who shot quickly upright and sent Crookshanks bounding off of her bed with a shriek. Heart pounding in a dizzying sort of manner, she bit her lip and looked across the bed with a sense of concern welling in her stomach. That look in his eyes, the complete blankness on his face...it was all a tad discomforting to her. She crossed her legs beneath her sheets and stared into those endless wells, shining out so many conflicting emotions that she found it nearly impossible to trace even one of them, like a constantly moving target. She cleared her throat and regarded him through her steadily-clearing eyesight.

Instantly at the sight of him, the memory of last night came flooding back...the pain in his eyes, the desperation in his voice...she winced slightly as the flashes from the night before rushed powerfully back into her brain. _The way he completely fell apart, _she noted coolly as he slightly lowered his staring gaze. _The way I had to leave the room in order for him feel better. _Even now, after so many episodes and explosions, the fact that even _she-_ his only remaining friend- couldn't control him or help calm him down in the least bit brought a strong sense of shame burning in her throat. It was disgracing. Like she hardly knew him.

_But then again, the Harry Potter sitting before me is nothing like the one I used to know, _she thought sadly, pursing her lips_. The one I used to know didn't have the entire fate of the existing world riding on his oh-so-delicate shoulders. _

She frowned as Harry finally opened his mouth to speak, casting his eyes down towards the bed. "Hermione...we need to talk."

The way in which he spoke seemed so hesitant- as though he were somehow doubtful of the entire situation. _But then again_, Hermione noticed keenly, _he's rarely assured of himself these days. _He ruffed his wild hair uncertainly and flashed her an important yet tentative look.

She tried her best to smile brightly, although she was steadily becoming convinced of the idea that he could see straight through her smiles. "Of course, Harry," she shifted to the side as Crookshanks cautiously leapt up once more onto the bed and snuggled beside her, a look of wariness flashing in his yellow eyes. She petted him and repeated herself. "_Of course_."

"Well," he said, instinctively straightening his round, almost coke-bottle glasses. "I was thinking maybe we could go downstairs in the kitchen." He smiled slightly. "Everyone's gone and I figured you'd like some breakfast."

It was true- Hermione noted the low, rumbling tone in her stomach. A nice big plate of bacon and eggs sounded more appealing to her now then a peaceful world free of house-elf labor. She smiled the first real smile she could remember in weeks as the hesitant, unsure look on her friend's face started to look slightly..._adjusted. _"Sure, Harry! But, might I ask who's cooking?" She frowned slightly. "Because if it was Tonks again, we may need to eat out."

He laughed- a real laugh- which sent a spark of joy bursting in Hermione's chest. "No, I think Moody was here earlier, which might I add, he is an _amazing_ cook." He chuckled. "You wouldn't expect that."

"I figured he'd think the eggs were hatching a plan to murder him before they were fully cooked," she said, laughing and swinging her legs over the bed. Smiling, she scooped up the purring Crookshanks and turned to face her friend, her floor-length nightgown making her look like a child again. Harry was silently reminded of Hermione on Christmas morning, bounding into he an Ron's dormitory with a look of expectance shining in her innocent eyes before they all three set to the difficult task of ripping open countless amounts of presents.

But that memory only lasted a second before he remembered that Ron was dead and that Hermione's eyes would never be innocent again. He frowned slightly, his initial joy dampened. "Let's go, then."

Hermione, the first traces of real happiness flowing through her veins, followed Harry down the dusty steps and into the dirty kitchen. She had to admit, it had been a different kitchen when Molly Weasley was in charge of it. _But then again, _she thought, _she hadn't yet suffered the death of her youngest son. _It seemed so long ago, like a distant dream, the plump woman twirling soup with her wand and bustling around the kitchen trying to find the cook book that Fred and George nicked, giggling in the corner as their mother became flustered. _So long ago..._

Shaking her head, Hermione watched, smiling, as Harry stood at the counter, shelling out hefty amounts of fluffy, yellow, scrambled eggs from a large bowl onto two small plates. As an afterthought, he laid two long strips of bacon beside their helpings of eggs and came striding back to Hermione, laying it happily before her. _This is turning out to be an uncommonly good day, _she thought, looking down at perhaps the best breakfast she could remember eating for ages.

Grimacing, she quietly recalled the last time she had sat down for breakfast like this, when the meal had been so ill prepared by none other than Nymphadora Tonks. Then, the meal had been almost similar, except the eggs were charred and smelled oddly of rubber, the bacon was black and inedible, and the stiff toast she cheerfully provided pathetically crumbled to bits when she tried to smear marmalade on it. Hermione could remember feeling profoundly sorry for Professor Lupin, who forced down the whole thing and smiled up at his shape-shifting love when he was finished. _I can also vividly recall the sounds of him retching upstairs nearly twenty minutes later..._

But this breakfast was mouth-watering. Harry was right- she would've never guessed Moody was this good of a cook. As she chewed away happily at her eggs, Harry pulled out two, tall glasses from the panty and magicked them full of pumpkin juice. Hermione received it graciously. She even set aside a small plate for Crookshanks, who was looking up at her, radiating with envy. He purred genially as he nibbled up the bits of bacon, his bottlebrush tail swinging against the tile floor.

With the sun shining in beside them, it was like the three of them were in a different world; one free of death, murder, pain, and tears. It was at this realization that Hermione accordingly noted that Harry had finished his plate and was now looking up expectantly at her from across the table, that look of importance returned in his eyes. She blinked at him.

"So, Hermione," he said, sounding hesitant again. "I think it's time we should talk about...Malfoy."

The sound of Malfoy's name coming off of Harry's lips seemed to catapult her from the 'different world' she had momentarily thought she was in and sent her blasting painfully back into the one she knew sadly as her own. She choked on her pumpkin juice as the memory came forcefully back- the memory of Draco Malfoy -her childhood nemesis- lying asleep one floor above them. _Had I really forgotten about him? _She asked herself, feeling foolish. _No wonder I thought I was having a good day._

She tried to hide this epiphany of emotions from Harry as she nodded in agreement. "Sure, Harry. What would you like to talk about?" As she asked him the question, she had the unshakable feeling that this conversation was going anywhere but good. Resolutely, she cleared her throat as Harry shifted in his seat, looking towards the ceiling as he always did when he was deep in thought.

"Tonks and Lupin don't want him here, Hermione. In fact, they'd prefer it if you left him at the Ministry's doorstep tonight before things got too hard to handle."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Too hard to handle? I've got him under control." She paused as she slowly realized that controlling Malfoy was nearly impossible. But she ignored the thought and pressed on. "Besides, why do they want him out of here so bad?"

"Well, for starters, he _did_ murder a member of the Order!" Harry looked at her obviously.

"Oh!" Hermione mentally slapped herself. "I'm sorry- I can't believe I forgot. It's just...I rarely saw Kingsley here...always at the Ministry, he was..."

Harry folded his arms across his chest. "And according to Lupin and Tonks, that's unforgivable."

Hermione shook her head. "They're thinking about this the wrong way. Yes, what Malfoy did was..._despicable. _Personally, I don't think even I could ever forgive him for that. We were all somewhat close to Shacklebolt. Some more than others," she added, looking across the table at Harry. She couldn't deny the fact that Kingsley Shacklebolt was much closer to Harry than her, and the sad flicker in Harry's eyes seemed to give proof to that. "But, the information Malfoy says he's willing to give us is something more important than they seem to realize. He said he had _locations, _Harry! Besides, I'm sure if Shacklebolt were here today, he'd want us to use the information his murderer had to give us if it would mean preventing the deaths of countless others." She sighed. "It may not appeal to emotion, but it certainly appeals to logic." _And logic is one of the only things I have left, _she thought sadly.

Harry looked down at the table. "I agree with you, Hermione." She looked up in alarm at this. "Malfoy should...stay." It seemed to pain him to say that, and as he looked up again at Hermione, something unreadable was swimming around in those eyes of his. Something secretive. His jaw was set in a sign of restraint.

"Harry," Hermione asked, placing down her fork and looking concernedly at her best friend directly across from her. "Is there...anything I should know?"

His eyes flashed about twenty different emotions before they looked almost comical. He fixed on a crooked smile. "Not that I know of!" He took a long gulp of pumpkin juice. "Why do you ask?"

A sort of defense seemed to brew up in his eyes. Hermione reasoned now was not the time to get to the bottom of this. _But later...definitely later. _"Oh- nothing."

"Anyway," he said with an air of lightness, "what I'm trying to say is that you need to be- er- _prepared_ for Tonks and Lupin when they come back this evening. They don't want Malfoy here. And if we want him to stay, we're going to have to put up a strong case."

Hermione was strangely ruffed by Harry's comments. "If _we _want him to stay _we're _going to have to put up a strong case? Harry, I must ask, why on earth do you care so much? I'd figured you'd want him behind bars as bad as everyone else. In fact, I'd thought you'd love to personally deliver him to the Dementors yourself! Harry, you _hate _him," she added, shaking her head. "This doesn't add up...if you hate him so much, as you have hated him all your life, _why _do you want to help him?"

He faltered for an answer.

"_And, _let's not forget that he murdered someone very close to you, Harry. This doesn't make sense!"

Harry shifted angrily, pursing his lips. "Well bloody hell, Hermione, I was under the impression that you wanted him to stay!"

She laughed in a muted sort of way. "I do, Harry, of course I do. I made a deal with him, as _repulsive_ as it is. But I must know why you care so much...it's odd, Harry. Too odd to be true." She stared into those green eyes across from her, hoping to all hopes that they would silently give away the answer.

But they were blank- blanker than they'd ever been- and Harry broke his gaze from her looking highly affronted. "I have my own reasons. I've told you that already."

She shook her head worriedly. "Well that concerns me."

He stood up suddenly, knocking over his half-empty glass of pumpkin juice. Crookshanks shrieked again and bounded out of the kitchen. "Then you'd better stop being concerned, because it's not going to get you anywhere." His eyes seemed so solid- so concrete. _Unbreakable, _she thought. "I did not bring you down here to discuss my reasons for wanting to keep that slimy git in this house- I brought you down here to warn you about Tonks and Lupin. If you want to keep that deal with Malfoy that I _know _you care about keeping, you'd better think of a way to convince them, otherwise the deal's broken." And with an anger shining in his eyes, he stomped out of the kitchen and into the morning air, swinging open the door and slamming it shut behind him. Hermione closed her eyes for fear that the portrait of Sirius's grandmother would start screeching again, but thankfully she remained silent, leaving Hermione alone in the kitchen with not a single idea of what she should be thinking.

_Yes, this is all very odd..._she thought, sipping the last of her pumpkin juice. There was something that Harry was definitely not telling her, and she couldn't even begin to fathom what. But at the same time, she, at the moment, had to take their conversation at face value and acknowledge the fact that Tonks and Lupin wanted to drop Malfoy off at the Ministry tonight. And she couldn't let that happen...

_But why?_ The question popped up again, irrefutably. _Why do I have to do everything in my power to keep my word with a worthless ferret like him?_

But the truth was that he wasn't 'worthless'- he was probably worth more now than he'd ever been worth in his life. _Which probably wasn't that much, _she thought, sighing loudly. Malfoy had information, and she had made a deal with him that she would house him if he accordingly gave her that information.

_But what am I willing to do for it? _Hermione stood up from her seat and shelled out the rest of the remaining eggs and bacon onto another plate and walked back into the main room, this question echoing throughout her brain. She approached the steps. _What _am_ I willing to do for it?_

A deal was a deal. But how important _was_ that deal? Certainly, if both Lupin _and _Tonks (and no doubt the other members of the Order that they had informed) were stacked up against her (and for some reason, Harry), the deal would be practically impossible to keep.

_And would that really be the end of the world?_

She walked up each step with these questions bouncing in her mind, doubt burning inside of her, when she reached the top floor and started walking down the hall towards the farthest door, standing before it with her plate in hands. Sighing loudly, she opened the door.

_Time to feed Malfoy..._

The thought itself made her cringe.

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_He's _still _asleep?_

Irritated, she placed the plate full of Draco's breakfast on the nearest table and approached him, lying in what appeared to be a blank, deep, and drugged sleep. It was nearly noon, which meant that Draco had been sleeping for many more hours than she'd figured the Draught would sustain him.

"The lazy git," she groaned, crossing her arms and staring down at his expressionless face with a deep look of loathing.

It was at this moment that Hermione noticed his face- this was one of the first times she was able to really look at it since he passed out on her doorstep the night before. She couldn't help but find it odd that he wasn't sneering or smirking or twisting up his face in any way that she could see...in fact, she had never seen Malfoy like this.

_Completely defenseless, _she thought, furrowing her eyebrows. _Not an ounce of smart ass to hide behind. _

As she was looking at him, his face motionless and expressionless, Hermione silently noted the fact that he looked like a completely different person when he wasn't grinning evilly or dripping maliciously with a sneer. He looked harmless...even handsome, with those sharp yet somehow delicately made features still and unmoving. He looked calm, quiet..._peaceful_, with his shocking white-blonde hair brushed out of his fair face.

It was somehow as though she had never seen him before, and it took a few moments to prod herself out of her reverie and reacquaint herself with the situation at hand. Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, she let the frustration that had been fueling her moments before come rushing back into her veins as she regarded him again huffily, still and asleep after nearly thirteen hours. _The lazy git!_

Angrily, she grabbed hold of his shoulder and started to shake, which at first did nothing at all to rouse him from his slumber. Then, determination welling up alongside of her anger, she shook more forcefully, until she was practically knocking his head against the headboard. Hermione quietly reasoned that this probably wasn't a very smart thing to do, what with his condition, but what the hell...he would live. _And it wouldn't bother me so much if he wasn't a good for nothing, filthy, pathetic-_

He opened his silver eyes in a flash and knocked her arm away instinctively. "W-_What the hell_?"

She made a sort of high-pitched, annoyed squeal and folded her arms. "Time to wake up, Malfoy!"

He suddenly switched from looking relatively calm to positively _livid_. "That doesn't mean you can put your Mudblood hands on me and bounce me around!" He sat up quickly, winced, and then decided to ignore it. "Really, what the hell is wrong with you, Granger?!" His eyes brightened in alarm as he studied his surroundings in disgust. "And what the bloody hell is this? Do you call this a _house?" _He laughed insultingly._ "_Granger, really, this is below even _Weasley _standards-"

Her eyes became murderous.

"Okay, sorry," he said rather quickly, "But honestly. This is a royal dump." A flash of malice flickered in his eyes. "But I guess, in truth, the house really fits the owner, or at least in this case." He motioned towards Hermione with a shrug.

"Shut your mouth," she said, sounding somewhat bored with him already. "If you must know, I do not own this house. You were in _my _house last night..."

("Not _that_ much of a difference," he muttered indistinctively)

"...And because of all the trouble you're going to cause, I'm staying here now."

Malfoy looked at her, oddly thoughtful. "Hmm...Never thought I'd live to see the day where I'd be sharing a home with Potter and the Mudblood..."

Hermione stiffened. "How do you know Harry's here?"

Something flickered in his eyes. "Well, you always have followed him around. Sort of sad, really."

She ignored him and folded her arms. "Well, if you must know, this house in a way sort of belongs to _your _family, or at least your bloodline." Hermione paused and motioned towards the walls. "You are now in the House of Black, quarters of the Order of the Phoenix. A bit funny, isn't it?"

He sneered. "A bit pathetic...I'll guess that old Sirius Black lent it to you...father always said he was a disgrace-"

"_Honestly!" _Hermione shouted aloud and threw up her hands, "Are you trying to make me kick you out onto the street?"

He smirked evilly, looking very proud of himself. "Oh, you wouldn't do that. We made a deal, remember?" He sat up straighter and leaned his back against the headboard, some of the covers falling down and revealing the damage beneath. But he didn't seem to mind. "And the last thing I see Ickle-Goodie Granger doing is breaking her word." He paused, a light seeming to go off in his head. "Or would you?"

She huffed and turned her back to him to retrieve his breakfast. "I'll tell you one thing- insulting Sirius Black and my dead best friend isn't helping your case at all, you slimy git."

He brightened as he sighted his breakfast. "Is that- _for me?" _His pale face was overwhelmed with a phony smile. "Oh Granger, how thoughtful!"

"Shut up," she said tiredly, pulling up a sturdy, wooden chair to his bedside, "And eat."

Casually, she magicked a fork into her hands for she had forgotten to get one from downstairs, and dipped it into the eggs, lifting the fork and bringing it to Malfoy's mouth as if to feed him-

He knocked her hand away and looked appalled. "Merlin-! _What are you doing?"_

Hermione looked equally appalled. "I'm _feeding _you!"

"Does it _look _I need someone to feed me?" Looking affronted, he waved his arms around in the air. "I _do _have use of my limbs, Granger!"

"Well you need rest," she said, welling up defensively. "And excuse me for assuming you couldn't feed yourself. I know how close you are to your mother...I just didn't know if you were able, on your own and all..."

Malfoy looked at her, eyebrows furrowed. "Are you suggesting that my mother feeds me?"

"I don't know- I just _thought_-"

"Give me that fork," he replied indignantly, snatching it from her hand and grabbing the plate from her as well. "I suppose Mudbloods don't have drinks with their meals," he added sourly, noticing the lack of beverage.

"Will you shut up?" She asked, rolling her eyes and magicking a tall glass of pumpkin juice.

He grinned and started to tuck into his plate of eggs.

"You know Professor Moody prepared that-"

Eyes bulging, he spat out his mouthful of eggs and starting gagging.

Hermione giggled triumphantly. "So I was right...you _can't _eat on your own."

He ignored her, looking terrified. "S'it poisoned? That bloody codger- try and murder me!"

"You're starting to act like him yourself." She relaxed a little in her chair and crossed her legs. "And besides, the Moody you had trouble with wasn't even Moody at all. We all owe him a debt of thanks for turning you into a ferret, though."

Malfoy shuddered all over. "Don't...remind me of that."

With a delighted smile, Hermione snatched the fork out of his hand and sighed loudly. "Well, do you need me to feed you or _not_?"

Fire seemed to be burning in his eyes at that point. Once again, he seized the fork from her grasp and starting digging into his plate of eggs, except this time much more slowly and cautiously. Every time he brought another helping of eggs into his mouth, he'd look at her warily, as if she had some sort of idea if it was poisoned or not. Hermione had to suppress a laugh the entire time, watching him eat and playing with her wand mechanically, sliding it between her fingers.

After Draco was finished with the eggs, he nodded towards the glass of pumpkin juice that Hemione had sat on the table behind her. "I'm thirsty," he said, sounding a tad childish and demanding.

She laughed lightly. "I guess Mommy Malfoy never taught her boy _manners."_

He didn't look amused. "Just give it to me." He paused. "And stop talking about my mother." A grin spread across his face. "At least my mother isn't a _dentist."_

"Shut up," Hermione said half-heartedly, turning her back to him to retrieve the pumpkin juice. "There's nothing wrong with dentistry, you prat-"

She was thrown off her train of thought as she felt a cold hand seize her wrist and yank her wand out of her hand forcefully. "Malfoy, what are you-?" The glass of pumpkin juice shattered noisily all over the floor.

He interlocked hands with her; his pale, cold fingers wedged in-between her tanner ones, and with his other hand he pointed her wand towards their entwined hands, breathing heavily. "This is called survival, Granger," he said, an odd flicker alight in his eyes.

"You're not..." She spoke carefully; "You're not going to perform...the _Unbreakable Vow_?" She tried to wring her hand free of his grasp. "I'm not willing! You can't!"

"And why not?" He seemed deadly calm. "We made a deal didn't we? Or were you planning to break it all along?"

She shook her head, eyes wide. "Where is this coming from? Of _course_ I'm keeping our deal!" She tried to hide the strong burning in her stomach that was reminding her of her thoughts before she entered the room, questions of how much their deal was worth and whether or not it could be broken. Her doubts...

"I've got a good sense of hearing, you know? And truly, you and Potter should keep your voices down when you eat breakfast together...I'm sure the Dark Lord himself could've heard you without straining too hard..."

"_What? _You were asleep, Malfoy." But even as she said this, the puzzle started to come together. He smirked as the comprehension overtook her face.

"Gotten there, have we?" He grinned widely.

"You weren't asleep at all," she said quietly. "That's how you knew Harry was here..."

"_And_ how I know my cousin and her werewolf freak of a boyfriend want to dump me at Azkaban." He tightened his grip on her hand, sending chills up her spine. "But we're not going to let that happen, are we?"

She scoffed hotly. "And what makes you think that I'm going to make a Vow with _you?"_

"Simple really, Granger. If you want my information like you said you did, this is the perfect way. Honestly, I'm surprised I have to actually _explain _this to you," he said, pausing to shake his head in disbelief. "If you make a Vow with me, there's no way Tonks and Lupin and everyone else in your sodding Order can kick me out...unless they want the _both _of us dead." He grinned. "And I don't think any one of them to stand the idea of not seeing your big, bushy head everyday."

Hermione let the understanding wash over her, and with a sigh, she realized it: he was right. True, she'd never thought their deal would come to this point- death being risked at both sides, but then again...desperate times, desperate measures. And she couldn't blame Malfoy for not trusting her, as much as she hated to admit it. With the added factor of the rest of the Order wanting him out of Grimmauld Place, it was going to be virtually impossible to keep the deal- but this...this would make everything different. Would Lupin and Tonks and Moody and the rest of them be willing to ship Malfoy off to Azkaban if it meant that she would _die? _

She frowned. _And am I really willing to make a bond like this with _him?

She wanted his information more than any of the Order could possibly imagine. They couldn't see how important it was...they couldn't grasp the fact that a little bit of information- names, locations- could literally save lives.

_If we had known that the Death Eaters were planning an ambush at the Ministry of Magic just a week past, perhaps Ronald Weasley wouldn't be dead right now, _she thought, anger welling powerfully in her chest.

She looked across their linked hands into Malfoy's strangely alight eyes. "Who will be our Bonder? Who will be our witness?"

Malfoy smiled. "I'm witnessing it, aren't I?" He cocked his head at her wand, which he was pointing at their hands. "They never tell you that, do they? Guess you don't read the fine print, Granger."

She darkened at him, the feeling of her hand and the hungry look in his eyes making her feel uneasy. He was breathing rapidly, as if this were taking a great deal of strain. _But then again, _she recalled, eyes trailing down to his slashed front, _he's cursed. _It seemed so easy to forget that when he was being nasty to her.

"I will be the Bonder. You just need to accept." He narrowed his sliver eyes at her. "Keep in mind that I'm waiting."

Even as she felt herself relenting, she asked. "And what are you going to do if I decline?"

He laughed ever-so-lightly. "Well I _do _have your wand. Put two and two together, Mudblood." Slowly, he raised her wand so that it was pointing right between her eyes. "Don't think I won't," he added, reading the doubt on her face.

"You wouldn't make it out of the house," she said with disgust. "Let's say you're strong enough to make it down the steps. Even then, Harry will hex you into next week." She raised her eyebrows threateningly. "He's waiting right outside."

Malfoy looked at her with loathing. "And Potter solves every problem, does he?"

She chose not to answer, desperately trying to weigh the options, wanting more than anything to avoid this promise to Malfoy- this Unbreakable Vow...but knowing deep down that this was unavoidable. _Not to mention the fact that he has my wand pointed at me. _

Hemione heaved a sigh and stared into those misty, dancing eyes, heart beating insanely fast within her chest. _What am I doing...?_

He looked at her intently, a slight sneer on his face.

"...Okay."

He smirked and squeezed her hand tightly. "Good decision." Malfoy paused. "Actually, it was the only one you had, but good job."

She shook her head, looking disgusted. "Just do it."

He looked at her for a couple of moments, silent. Then, sounding more sincere than she'd ever heard him in his life, he said quietly, "You'll understand this later."

At this moment, his eyes were fixed on her, as if he were asking her if she was ready. Silently she nodded. Then he spoke.

"Will you, Hermione Granger," he paused for a moment, looking overcome, "do all in your power to prevent this..._curse..." _He paused again. "...from killing me?"

She looked at him resolutely. "I will."

A thin, fiery red line swam out from the end of Hermione's wand and encircled their linked hands, illuminated them in a menacing, scarlet light.

This time, Hermione spoke. "And will you, Draco Malfoy, reveal to me all information you have regarding You-Know-Who and his plans?"

A terrible flash of light that looked very akin to fear enveloped his eyes before he looked at her gravely, looking more sickly and sallow than ever before in the red light, and firmly said, "I will."

Another red line crept slowly from her wand and linked with the first so that it appeared to be a bright, glowing chain of fire.

Malfoy sighed as though they were finished before Hermione caught him off guard and spoke once more. "And will you promise to not disrupt the Order or bring us any danger from You-Know-Who...do you promise to be on our side, Draco?"

He went very pale, and then mouthed, "This wasn't in the deal, Granger."

She looked at him without emotion until he begrudgingly said, "I will."

The third and final line of fire shot quickly from the wand, twisting with the other two and bounding them thickly around their hands, like a glowing, fiery snake. Their eyes meet amidst the unbelievably bright light, both pairs of eyes set and resolute. Eventually, Malfoy lowered his eyes.

"Then it's done," Malfoy said simply, his pale face glowing in the red light.

Hermione didn't respond. _It's done...we're bound _forever. She felt stunned and strangely out of breath.

As the chain binding them began to fade, it's grip on their hand loosening, Malfoy flicked her wand towards the shattered remains of his glass of pumpkin juice and quickly restored it, shooting the full, orange glass into his now-free hand. He took a long sip, eyeing her maliciously. "You can have your wand back now," he said snidely, tossing it in her lap. "You've been a real help, you know."

Studying him, looking past him smug facade, she noticed the rapid way in which he was breathing and the way he leaned against the headboard, looking astoundingly weak. Normally she would've felt an automatic pang of sympathy- a strong urge of pity- but right at this moment, she really hated him. And thinking logically, she didn't even know why. But she did.

"Don't talk to me," she said plainly, getting up from her seat and walking towards the door. She felt absolutely disgusted with both Malfoy and herself.

As she closed it shut with a snap, she heard him calling out after her, "You'll thank me later!"

But she was too overcome with a mixture of fear and shame to muster up an answer as the truth sidled up next to her and completely consumed her. She leaned against the wall and shuddered.

It was at this moment that she wanted more than anything to talk to Ron- to share with him her fears and doubts and anxieties and overall terror at this entire situation. But he wasn't there. He wouldn't ever be there again.

A small tear escaped the corner of her eye and she sunk down to the floor, the truth ringing around painfully in her brain. _I'm bound to him...forever._

And that wasn't very reassuring.

------------------------------------------------------------------

**A/N: **Yep, bound forever indeed, Hermione. Wow, I am in a really lame mood today. Now, I wanna give props to my beta Stratagem Blue, because she for real pulled me out of my writer's block with her helpful suggestions, so thanks, pal! Also, for real girl, on the serious side, thanks for your comments...as you can see, I adjusted. Let me tell you about all the things I love about Stratagem Blue...(silence again...hahaha)

But anyway, please oh please review me if you either a)enjoyed this chapter, b)hated this chapter, or c)have any constructive criticism, comments or question concerning this story. Thank you oh-so-much! (PLEASE REVIEW!)


	5. The Agreement

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter and neither does Albi the racist dragon. It's that one lady J.K. Rowling. I can see how you'd get confused though (I can't see at all).

**Thanks for the Reviews: **I love you like a child loves his blanket. And yes, I stole that from that awful Fergie song. Except she said "miss you like a child misses his blanket", but eh. You get the point. Children and blankets. Fun for everyone involved.

**A/N: **Oh. Wow. Counterspark has updated once again! Oh, let the sadness bequeath you as you accept the joy! But yeah...update. New chapter, as you can see. It's one of my favorites, I'm going to be bald-faced honest about it. I mean _bald-faced. _New developments between our favorite Mudblood bookworm and our blonde bigot.New, exciting developments. If you couldn't tell, I'm in a really weird mood right now, so I'm just going to leave you with a strong suggestion to read the font below this. It's good stuff- trust me. With that said, on with the literature!

**-----------------------------------------------------------------------**

Hermione frowned, unmoving eyes glued to the floor. _Wow, _she thought, folding her arms resolutely across her chest and feeling the sensation of her racing heart; _They've _never_ been this mad at me..._

Owing to her respectable persona, Hermione could hardly remember the last time they had been even mildly upset with her- all in all they viewed her as an equal...an adult of sorts; the one they could almost completely count on to act both wisely and accordingly. The one they never had to worry about doing anything that was either rash or stupid. _The logical one_, she noted to herself, studying the dirty carpet with glassy eyes.

But now as they paced the dusty Drawing Room floor, staring at her incredulously, thoughts of betrayal written all over their faces, she mentally prepared herself for the onslaught of bitter words, which was often more heated and dangerous than actual battle. Chest swelling, Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and gazed upon them all, trying her best to remain calm and coherent. _Unlike them, _she thought steadily, looking at the shocked and rattled expressions stuck upon her fellow Order member's faces that she had been so deftly avoiding until this moment.

Lupin's gray-streaked hair was standing on end- Moody's shockingly electric blue, magical eye was fixedly concentrated on the ceiling, most likely gazing distrustfully upon the sleeping Malfoy one floor above them, with a scowl set on his thin mouth. Tonks was too overwhelmed to even react, tightly clutching the arms of her chair with white knuckles, face slack and eyes wide. Harry sat cross legged in the corner of the Drawing Room, watching quietly, unperturbed and fiddling with his wand, as the three of them (not so much Tonks, who was still in the beginning stages of shock) unleashed their disbelieving fury upon Hermione.

"You did _what?" _Remus Lupin paced back and forth across the filthy carpet, tufts of dust rising with every footfall. "Hermione, how-how could you? This is insanity!" He ran a trembling hand through his flyaway hair, the wrinkles beneath his eyes more prominent than ever before, his shabby robes trailing along the floor behind him. "You are much more intelligent than this, Hermione...I can't _begin _to tell you how disappointed I am!"

Tonks let out a strangled gasp, eyes fixed on nothing other than the air before her. Her mind seemed to be racing, rapidly understanding the seriousness of the act Hermione had just done. She slowly brought one trembling hand to her mouth, the other to her now long and violet hair. Hermione silently noted the fact that she hadn't seen Tonks so quiet- so eager _not _to talk- before in her life, other than the number of months in which she was unrequitedly in love with the bumbling werewolf before her. She watched as Tonks flashed a meaningful look at Lupin and then returned her steady gaze at the nothingness once more.

"Miss Granger, I agree with Remus," growled Alastor Moody, shaking his head in disapproval. "A very foolish move, not worthy of a girl like you. And I figured you were wiser than this." His magical eye never faltered from the ceiling, as his normal eye pierced into her. He leaned heavily on the wall. "An Unbreakable Vowvery foolish indeed..."

Tonks stirred again, looking even more fearful, eyes starting to water in their developing horror. Out of the corner of her eye, Hemione saw Harry uninterestedly playing with the moth-eaten drapes in the corner, sticking his fingers into the holes and wiggling them around, looking supremely bored. _He was probably expecting this, _she noted as a few heated comments that were directed at her from Moody rolled in one ear and out of the other, disregarded. Now bored with the drapes, Hermione watched Harry move to his fingernails, digging dirt out from underneath them with a dull expression.

_If only I could be so indifferent, _she thought with a sigh, focusing all of her might onto staying calm in the wake of three highly-upset adults. She sighed loudly to herself, which sent her a dismayed look of offense from Remus Lupin.

"Do you understand the seriousness of what you have done, Hermione?" Lupin rounded on her, approaching Hermione, who was watching all of this coolly in her stiff, wooden chair, arms folded resolutely across her chest. "This is ancient, binding magic. I can count the number of reported Unbreakable Vows made on one hand...do you _truly_ understand, Hermione?"

For the first time since she had informed them of the news, she spoke firmly, a strong sense of determination welling up inside of her chest. "Of course I do." She had expected her voice to come out unsure and shaky, but the solid quality of it gave her a renewed sense of confidence.

He sighed sadly, tearing his gaze away from her as if it were painful. "Obviously you don't...you are bound with him forever, Hermione...you are risking _death-"_

She cut him off snappishly, looking stern. "I _do_ know what an Unbreakable Vow is," she said hotly, looking defiantly into his eyes. Angrily, she cast her gaze at Moody. "And I am _not _foolish."

Tonks sniffled loudly, finally tearing her wet eyes away from the nothingness they were preoccupied with earlier and looked full-on at Hermione, lip trembling. "I _cannot believe you._" She stood up from her chair, purple hair bouncing. "You did this so you can get your way and manipulate us all...like a control-hungry _brat!"_

Hermione stood up, calm finally leaving her. "I don't deserve to be talked to like this!"

Moody spoke, his grisly mane falling around his mutilated face. "You don't have the wisdom to make that kind of judgment call, Miss Granger. You've put us all at risk."

"No," she said defiantly, warmth rushing to her cheeks. "None of you can look past your own stubborn ways to see the importance of this! None of you can see past the fact that he is a Death Eater!" Hermione's voice had risen several octaves in her passion. "None of you can see the plain fact that he is an _unimaginable_ aid to all of us!"

At this last line, the curtains pulled over Sirius' mother in the hall slipped and the old woman in the canvas began to wail, looking hateful and disgusted, dribble running down her face. "_Foul, disgusting half-breeds! Pathetic, filthy vermin! Mudbloods, Muggle-borns, half-bloods, a disgrace and an abomination to this household_! _Even in death my son brings dishonor to the family name!_"

They had forgotten to shut the door. Harry dully stood up and stalked to the doorway, raised his wand, and shot a silent charm at the canvas, shutting her up at once as the curtains flung themselves over her wailing, weathered face. A brief silence fell awkwardly on the room before the argument continued passionately once more, as if uninterrupted. Harry shut the door behind him and returned to his corner, looking unaffected.

"Hermione, he _murdered _a member of the Order!" Tonks reached out to her, eyes pleading for her to tell her that she hadn't done what she had done...that it wasn't irreversible. She clutched Lupin's arm desperately with her other hand. "He _murdered _Kingsley Shacklebolt!"

"We've all murdered," said Hermione firmly again. "Not that what Malfoy did was forgivable whatsoever, but we've all murdered. This is war. Reckless murder," she said again, a sadness entering her voice as her eyes trailed away towards the floor once more.

"He should be taken to Azkaban," said Moody, limping around with his heavy leg clunking loudly behind him. "Justice should be served. But we can't do that now..." His magical eye moved slightly, but was still concentrated on the ceiling above them. "Now that your life's in danger," he added as an afterthought.

She felt blind anger starting to well up in her chest. "What do you care? You three would step over anybody if it meant success, wouldn't you?" Even as she spoke, she knew she was being unreasonable- recklessly emotional. But she no longer cared. "What's my death to you three? What's my death to the _Order_? Just another obstacle that needs to be faced?" Tears were welling in her eyes as her heart began to race. "Do it, then. Send him in. Kill me. I deserve it, don't I? I'm an adult now and I made the wrong decision...make me _pay_." Painful sobs were trying to work their way out of her chest, but she concealed them with all of her will as her view of the three Order members became blurry and unfocused.

Tonks features became softened as she approached the young witch slowly, reaching a warm hand out to her shoulder. Hermione's heart shuddered- no one touched her very often. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been comforted by physical touch. It was oddly relieving. "Hermione, don't be ridiculous. Yes, we're all very disappointed, and yes, we believe you made the wrong decision, but your tactic worked. There's no way we can send Draco to Azkaban now."

Hermione sniffled, sobs slowly releasing from her chest and turning into silent tears. Tonks noticed and wrapped her motherly arms around her. "I just hope this doesn't become something we all regret...who knows," said Tonks lightly, as if to herself, "It may just work out like you thought it."

As she was released from her hug, Hermione quickly gained her composure once more and dried her tears. She spoke steadily, looking at Moody now, who's magical eye was slowly moving from the ceiling to the bottom corner of his eye. It made her feel a tad sick to her stomach, but she pressed on. "Now that it's settled, I believe we should delay the questioning until he's well." She frowned. "Or at least until he's better. I know he's trying his best to make us think otherwise," she added, remembering Malfoy's way of hiding pain with arrogance, "but he's not well at all. In fact, I believe if he'd decided to show up at my doorstep a day later he'd be dead right now."

And it was true- those wounds weren't normal ones. If she hadn't magically intervened with her extensive knowledge as a beginning Healer, they would've stayed open until he'd bled himself dry. And as much as she truly hated him, the thought made her shudder. _No one deserves that..._

It was at this moment that Hermione noticed the odd sort of grin that appeared on Moody's face. "Until he's well enough, eh?" Both his magical eye and his normal one were fixed on the door to his right, unmoving. "Well, the boy's well enough to be standing outside of this room right now listening in to this whole conversation. Seems well enough to me!" He barked out a laugh.

Gaping, Hermione stared at Moody for a couple of moments before stomping towards the door and throwing it open forcefully, not daring to believe what he said was true. _It couldn't be..._

But it was. As soon as she opened the door, he fell forward heavily as if he'd been leaning on the door for support. A pained yet indignant expression overtook his pale and narrow face as he propped himself up on his elbows and glanced around the filthy room. He spoke to himself, a mixture of disbelief and disgust on his face. He sneered. "_And I thought that it couldn't get filthier..."_

Clearing his throat loudly, Moody strode up to the young man on the ground firmly, as Hermione stood back in shock, feeling dizzy. "And what do ya have to say for yourself, son?"

Malfoy's silver eyes went alight as he looked up at what he had believed to be his old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and then quickly went blank again. The same familiar sneer planted itself on his face. "Well, you found me out, then. Happy?" He looked both strangely angry and annoyed. "Not really fair to the rest of us, with that..._thing_...on your face." He scoffed heartily.

Hermione was shocked at his rudeness for a couple of seconds before she reminded herself she needn't to be shocked. _This _is _Malfoy, _she reminded herself as she quickly went to his side to help him to his feet. He stared at her, appalled, before brushing off her hands in repugnance.

"I didn't ask for you to touch me, did I, Granger?" He had his bed sheet wrapped around him tightly. Hermione noted the small red stains scattered on the clean white fabric with a sharp intake of breath. _What a dolt, _she thought, anger pumping through her veins. In his struggle to make his way downstairs and overhear their conversation, he'd managed to reopen a number of his wounds again. _He's going to get himself killed..._

She was silently wondering if this would violate the terms of their Vow when he stood up shakily, wrapping the sheet tightly around him like a winter cloak as he leaned on the wall. He was sweating and, Hermione noted quietly, trying not to grimace. She decided to speak.

"And what made you feel as though you needed to eavesdrop on our private conversations, _Malfoy_?" She uttered his surname as though it were poison dripping from her lips. "And in the process bleed all over a clean white sheet that doesn't belong to you?"

At this he quickly looked down at the sheet and noticed the blood for what appeared to be the first time. He didn't look too concerned. Looking up, a grin went across his face at the sight of her. "Not too private of a conversation, is it Granger, when I can hear you with a pillow over my face one floor up? Your voice really _carries..._have I told you that? A bit annoying, really..." He was breathing heavily as his eyes darted around the room, looking at Tonks, Lupin, Moody, and finally Harry. His gaze didn't move after this. "Potter," he said blandly.

Hermione glanced at Harry, still sitting cross legged in the corner, whose green eyes had suddenly become alert and murderous. This only lasted for a second though, before the previous indifference returned in his eyes as he regarded Malfoy as though he were a scrap of rubbish on his shoe that wasn't worth caring about. "Malfoy."

They stared at each other for a couple of silent moments, air in the room thick, before Tonks intervened. She folded her arms. "Haven't seen you in a while, cousin."

Malfoy looked at her clueless before saying quite rudely, "Who are _you_?"

Rolling her eyes, Tonks screwed up her face tightly as her hair slowly shortened to it's spiky length and went violently orange. Noticing the odd look on Lupin's face, who had obviously never seen her hair this color before, she mentioned quietly, "I always wore my hair like this when I went to the Malfoy's. Should've seen the look on Narcissa's face..."

Comprehension dawned on Malfoy's face. He smirked. "_Nymphadora." _Hermione had the distinct feeling that he was fully aware of how much she hated her first name. "I've always wondered how you got bundled up with this lot."

She ignored him and quickly returned her hair waist-length and purple. "And I see you've managed to make a real mess of your life, Draco." She shared a glance with Lupin that Draco noticed keenly.

"And I see you've managed to find yourself a real freak of a boyfriend. _Really, _Nymphadora...a _werewolf? _No, even worse," he said, with a chuckle, "An _unemployed _werewolf?"

"Enough," said Lupin, who looked completely unaffected by his comments. "We're not here for banter, Draco, as I've noticed you really excel in taking focus off of the important manners with your..._words._" He paced the room, eyes cast at the floor. "Since you're here, we can talk _to_ you rather than _about_ you." At this his eyes went up to him once more. "That is, if you're well enough..." Lupin's gaze lingered on the sweat on Malfoy's temple, as well as the blood spotted on the sheet he had wrapped tightly around him. He was shaking slightly as well.

Malfoy looked offended by this before he replied snidely, "Go on, then."

Sighing, Lupin began to pace once more. "Now that Miss Granger has ensured your stay here at Grimmauld Place, which might I add, you can personally thank her for keeping you out of Azkaban..."

Malfoy gazed quickly at Hermione with a look that suggested the last thing he intended on doing was thanking her as Lupin continued.

"...We need to share an understanding of how things will occur, Draco. You _will _tell us everything we ask of you."

Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes before replying, "Well yeah, that _is _the gist of the Unbreakable Vow." He glared at Lupin reproachfully. "And who said I have to tell you everything you ask me? The only one I have to answer to is the Mudblood-" Tonks gasped and Moody looked murderous. "-And I only have to tell her things that would concern this sodding Order or whatever. I don't have to tell her _everything."_

Lupin smiled at him wistfully before continuing. "And in turn you will be doctored by young Miss Granger as the terms of your Vow states. However," he said, with an air of authority, "The terms of the Vow do not state that you will stay _here_, necessarily, meaning that if we, the Order, find it more suitable to have Miss Granger house you elsewhere, mind you, somewhere where you are not sheltered by the protective magic of this house," Draco looked fearful for a moment, "Then we will see to it that you are moved. True, Hermione is bound to take care of you in terms of your Curse, but she is not bound to protect you from other forces that put you in harms way, like the number of Death Eaters you are now bound to betray." He stopped and looked up expectantly at Malfoy, who looked paler than usual.

He rolled his eyes in annoyance and drawled, "Fine. Whatever. I'll be a good boy."

"Thank you for that, Draco," said Lupin happily before returning to his girlfriend's side and wrapping his arm around her waist. "Now that that's cleared up, I need word from Harry that he will do nothing that would endanger young Draco." His gaze now went to Harry, who quickly looked up from his fingernails, looking surprised to be addressed.

"Er-what? Yes, of course." Needless to say, the murderous look he flashed at Malfoy didn't convince anyone, and Hermione silently wondered if Harry's secret had anything to do with endangering Malfoy. Normally, she would be indifferent, but now that her life was tied to his, she cared quite a bit. She was going to say something before Moody spoke.

"And boy, I'll have you know that if you even think about doin' something mischievous, you'll have to answer to me." His eye rolled sickeningly around his socket and Malfoy appeared as though he were about to be sick. "And true, it may not've been me who turned you into a ferret and bounced you 'round the Great Hall, but it sounds like a right brilliant idea to me if you do something I don't approve of." He scowled as he brushed his steely gray hair from his face and started to lumber for the door, stopping when he was beside Malfoy. "Remember that, son."

A look of fear settled itself on Malfoy's face as Moody loudly Apparated with a '_crack_' from the room.

"And I won't be too happy, either," said Tonks who was grinning at her cousin reflectively. "You know, I don't think you're as bad as you try to make yourself out to be, Dracie. Ha, I remember you cried a lot as a child...always was a wee little Mummy's boy..." She smiled broadly.

"Shut up," he said venomously as he glared upon her.

She chuckled lightly. "And I'll see you tomorrow as well! Wotcher, Draco!" She swiftly Apparated out of the room.

Lupin stood for a moment, regarding Malfoy, before grinning (obviously the vision of a young Malfoy crying was too much to bear) and following suite with his girlfriend as he Apparated out of sight. Now it was just Hermione, Malfoy, and Harry in the room, and all three of them seemed to notice adeptly. Harry spoke first, slowly getting to his feet and clenching his jaw tightly as he looked up at Malfoy.

"Leave me alone, and I'll do the same, ferret." His voice seemed threatening- more so than Hermione had ever heard it before. "Got it?"

Malfoy snarled at him. "Yeah, Scarhead. Don't go crying now..."

Hermione's chest constricted. He must of caught word of Harry's explosion the night before, or perhaps he'd even heard it. There was a moment there, as the two rivals stood glaring at each other, when she thought Harry was going to slug him, but the moment quickly passed as Harry pulled out his wand and Apparated to his room two flights up, the bang of his departure ringing in the silence.

Now they were the only two left. Hermione turned to him, arms crossed, as she once again regarded the blood stains on his sheet and the shakiness of his footing. He looked as though he were about to pass out, but his face bore no signs of weakness. A strong sneer was still written on it, obviously still thinking about how much he hated and wanted to murder Harry. He swayed dangerously as Hermione quickly stopped his fall. She decided now was the time to speak. "You really _are_ an idiot, Malfoy."

He didn't seem too affected by her words. His mind was obviously elsewhere- he didn't even regard her with his eyes. "Just take me upstairs, then."

She welled up indignantly. "And who says I have to? I've been thinking, if you keep pulling stupid moves like this you'll get yourself killed, and then I don't have to worry about breaking the Vow or worrying after you anymore! Honestly, I should really encourage this..."

He seemed to snap from his dark thoughts as he looked at her disbelievingly. "What, you're not going to help me upstairs, Mudblood? Ickle- Granger doesn't want to do a good deed?" He put on a fake, sarcastic pout., his eyes large and mocking.

She huffed and shook her head. "Merlin, you never stop being an prat, do you?" Looking put down, she wrapped an arm around Malfoy and flung one of his lifeless arms around her neck, beginning to support him out of the doorway, through the main room, and slowly up the steps. Through the thin sheet she could feel cold beads of sweat and dots of blood. He moved sluggishly and without any energy, thus making their trek up the stairs long and strenuous.

As she slowly lugged Draco up each step, her thoughts trailed back to Harry, as they often seemed to do these days, remembering the stifled look of murder that flashed in his eyes every time he regarded Malfoy. It concerned her- for one brief moment, it appeared as though every dark and powerful desire in Harry wanted nothing more than to rip Draco apart...to kill him mercilessly like an animal without thought or reason. But then that look went away so quickly, as though in hiding. As though it was still lurking behind the surface for a more opportune time. And though she spoke so uncaringly about the man leaning against her's death, she couldn't help the humane flare inside of her heart that wanted to give Malfoy a chance- not to mention the fact that inside of him was locked important information that she undoubtedly needed and was now ensured on getting. _But why does Harry look at him like that? _The thought played endlessly in her mind as they reached the top step. _Why?_

She was torn from her thoughts as they reached the first landing. She looked across at Malfoy, who quickly caught her eye. For a moment- she couldn't believe it- she saw a sincere look of thanks in those cloudy, silver eyes, before he seemed to notice and replace it with his usual look of disgust. She frowned. "_Well?" _He said, annoyance in his voice. "Don't I have wounds you need to attend to?"

She groaned and began to lug him towards his room. "Yeah, ones you put there, you great _idiot_." He sniggered lightly beside her as they walked slowly down the hall and across the threshold of his room.

_This better be worth it, _she told herself miserably as he passed out on her two feet from his bed. With his full weight on her, she nearly dropped him before pushing him toward the bed. He hit it softly, eyes shut and very pale.

_Merlin's beard, this had better be worth it..._

She turned him over and got to work on his wounds.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**A/N: **So? Eh? I'm really excited about this new chapter, and let me tell you, things are going to start happening. I've got it all worked out in my head, trust me. Mind-blowing stuff. I know I act silly, but I'm serious about where this story is going, my friends. Now, I'd just like to have it known that my glorious beta Stratagem Blue was not able to beta this particular chapter, but her presence is still a very important one in the life of Counterspark. For example, allow me to commence on everything that makes her important to me as not only a writer, but a person as well. (...silence..)

HA. Funny. But anyway, tell me what you thought about this chapter, I'd love to know. And Google Albi the racist dragon. You'll laugh. But mostly, review please. THANKS!


	6. The Questioning Pt I

**Disclaimer: **Did I tell you that I'm J.K. Rowling? Because I am. And when I say 'I am', I mean I'm not at all.

**Thanks for the reviews: **Yes. Especially you guys that are really engrossed in this. Malfoy would be proud (I don't know what I mean by that...but I mean something...probably profound...because I say profound things...a lot...).

**A/N: **Okay, guys. Prepare for a lengthy author's note. I'm sorry for the lapse of time between this and the last chapter that has been caused by not only the seventh book, which coincidentally is causing some changes to be added to the plot, but also the fast approaching new school year (gay indeed). I'd just like to say that, after the greatness that was Deathly Hallows, this plot is _completely _not compliant with the book. Not at all. But if you would allow me, I'd like to compose my own version of how things ended themselves, as was the goal of this story when I started it. Hopefully you'll like it lots. Now, that that's all cleared up, by all means my friends, read!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next couple of days seemed to pass without so much as a whisper.

Tension in Number 12 Grimmauld Place was now higher than Hermione could ever recall it being. Although things had appeared to be relieved at the end of their meeting several nights back, the same look of betrayal and mistrust still overtook the majority of the Order member's faces when the regarded her- when they remembered her decision. But then again, she was not backing down. She couldn't back down. It was an impossibility.

_Literally, _she thought with a pang in the pit of her stomach, _we're magically bound. _Thoughts playing around restlessly in her dizzied head, she quietly ate alone in the dark and dirty kitchen, absentmindedly playing with a dried piece of pork chop on her plate. Come to think of it, during the last couple of days she could hardly remember a time when she _wasn't _alone...Lupin, Tonks, and Moody were avoiding her like the plague, now having simultaneously decided that ignoring the man upstairs as well as the woman who had brought him to be there was the best mode of action in dealing with the situation- not dealing with it at all, ironically. And Harry, well...was being Harry. Which meant that he spent most of his time locked up in his room, staring blankly ahead at the frost gathering on his window. The idea of him alone and defeated in his room sent a spark of concern running down her spine, but now was not the time to go and fruitlessly attempt to cheer him up. She had discovered long ago that it was useless, and unfortunately, most of her focus had become unwillingly shifted to the reason for all of this disturbance- the one person to whom she practically loathed spending time with but to whom she was now irrevocably bound to forever

Malfoy.

_Funny how things work out, _she thought bitterly as she grinded her teeth against the tough and chewy contents of her dinner. _Not that he's been much company, _she reminded herself with a small sigh, reminiscing on their encounters during the past two days. It seemed as though his Curse was still working out it's effects on him...in fact, if anything, he seemed to be getting..._worse. _He was rarely conscious nowadays, and with a hint of shame she could distinctly recall wishing strongly that he weren't unconscious, just so she could have somebody- _anybody_- to talk to. She swallowed hard and flipped through another page of _Most Potente Potions, _blinking widely and tiredly, balancing her head in her hands. _Wanting to talk to Malfoy...now _that's _absurd..._

The few times in which he was in a state to talk had been, of course, not entirely satisfying- it seemed as though he were clinging to the moments in which he was able to talk to her, desperately sending out insult after insult while he still could. But even at that, she would've preferred being berated by Malfoy than to the empty and unsatisfying weight of being alone that had settled deep inside of her stomach. Hermione sighed as Crookshanks wound around her ankles and sent out a low, guttural purr- his yellow, lamp like eyes boring into her as if sensing her loneliness.

The upside of all of this, _if there is an upside at all_, she thought with a frown, was that Malfoy's presence was temporarily relieving her of her duties as a...

She struggled to find the right words. _As a killer, _she thought painfully, remembering back to the battles not too long ago in which she had, after Ronald's death, been practicing the Killing Curse on several Death Eaters. Hermione had to admit- a break from the death and the terror and the violence and the nightmares was all well and good. If she could ever thank Draco Malfoy for anything, it was that.

While absentmindedly chewing her pork chop with one hand and magically controlling her wand to stir the contents of a large caldron with the other, she scanned yet another yellowed and dated page of the book, searching for some sign of a potion that could better treat Malfoy's symptoms. The Curse to her was still shrouded in mystery, and the time she was not spending poring over ancient Potions books was dedicated to researching Dark Curses, on the offhand chance that whatever powerful curse that he had been afflicted with would be listed plainly and easily, with a short list of how to be rid of it and, simultaneously, rid of Malfoy. This idea was, of course, preposterous, considering the fact that the Dark Lord himself had most likely inflicted Malfoy with the Curse, and were that true, it wouldn't be listed plainly in a book of curses...but then again, she didn't have too many options.

Sometimes she wished that all of her time didn't have to be devoted to this Curse- this unknowable affliction that now consumed almost all of her life- but then again, she hardly had a choice. The boundaries and lines of the Vow were unmistakably clear...she must do _all_ in her power to rid Malfoy of the Curse. And thus _all _of her time was spent researching..._all _of her time was spent in his bedroom, administering potions to him while he semi-consciously remarked about the state of her hair. _All _of her time was singularly devoted to _him, _and the thought made her want to cringe, but at the same time, she couldn't deny the actual concern that was inching it's way upwards in her stomach; the genuine want to help her old nemesis. But that was the humanity in her speaking, and she had to remember: this was nothing more than a transaction. Help for information. There was no room to care. Things like humanity had to be stifled in a time of war.

She set down her fork and poured a small basin of Essence of Murtlap into the caldron, watching it bubble slowly into an golden, amber-like liquid exactly as it should. Circling her finger a few inches above the simmering heat of the caldron, her wand below her obeyed and stirred the potion in a counter-clockwise motion as instructed, until it slowly turned a deep shade of copper. The kitchen was instantly filled with the aroma of very pungent ointment. She crinkled her nose at the strong scent of the potion and mustered up a small laugh at the face she imagined Malfoy would make when he drank it before an odd sense of purpose washed over her senses and made her feel inescapably serious.

Tonight was the night. It was unmistakable- the air around her was growing far too thick, the tension far too unbearable...things had slowly and surely built up to this point, and action had to be taken. Every time she caught Tonks glaring at her with a questioning look or Harry hastily averting his gaze from her as she turned to face him was like a stab in the heart, and Hermione doubted she would be able to endure it much longer. She furrowed her eyebrows and corked a small amount of the fragrant potion into a small glass vial and emptied her caldron, mind still racing.

As for the questioning, she had accepted the fact that she couldn't hold it off anymore. If anything, the sooner she questioned him the better, yet in his current state the last thing she wanted to do was ask him questions- to make him stay painfully conscious. It took rudimentary skills as a Healer to know these things...to know that a man who has endured a very dark and powerful curse ought not to be questioned at a time like this. But then again, they weren't exactly at St. Mungo's. _And then again, _she thought with a scowl, _Malfoy isn't exactly the _ideal _patient..._

Frowning down at her half-eaten dinner, she quickly magicked it away with her wand and marched out of the kitchen towards the old and dusty stairs, up to the first flight, trying silently to convince herself that she had to do this. This was the only way, and it didn't matter how tired or weak Malfoy was- he was bound to tell her, wasn't he? Truly- he would be forced to. That was what the Vow stated...the _Unbreakable _Vow...

And yet, some part of her felt horribly guilty. If she momentarily put aside the fact that she hated Malfoy with a fiery and burning passion, there was still the fact that she was going to go question a very sick man for information that he had to give despite how much he needed to rest. It seemed wrong, and were it not for the pressure to prove herself radiating all around her, she wouldn't do it- she knew that for a fact. But then again, that was the humanity speaking.

She stopped outside of his door and fiddled around with the small glass vial in her hands, turning it around and staring down at the moving brown liquid. _Well, _she thought, closing her eyes tightly and biting her lip, _sometimes 'wrong' is necessary-_

_Sometimes 'wrong' is logical..._

And with a heavy sigh, she wrenched open the door and stepped over the threshold.

-------------------------------------

He was sleeping deeply, small snores escaping his slightly open mouth as a stray sliver of moonlight from the dusty window above illuminated his pale and unmoving face. A small bolt of fright went through her as he muttered sleepily and turned on his side, but her heart hesitantly returned to it's normal pace as he quickly fell silent once more.

Quietly, Hermione stepped over to the chair placed beside his bed and sat down, gazing at the man lying down before her, deep in what looked to be a fitful sleep. His pale and narrow face was completely expressionless- once again, she found it oddly strange to see him without a sneer. She once again found herself shocked by the fact that Draco Malfoy could look so peaceful...so _unlike _the slimy git that he was.

Yet again, she felt as though she were looking at a different person...she frowned. _Hermione, what are you doing?_

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she silently reached across through the darkness and clicked on the lamp, which softly penetrated the darkness with it's meek orange light. He didn't move or recognize the source of light at all, and with a small groan, Hermione gently touched his shoulder and whispered, "_Malfoy_?"

No response. _Not again, _she thought with an strong urge of annoyance, rolling her eyes animatedly as she clearly recalled the multiple times in which she had been forced to draw Malfoy out of a deep sleep. It was nearly impossible. She prodded him on the shoulder and said quite clearly, "Malfoy?"

Hermione gasped. His eyes bolted wide open, two silver points of light shining in the dim lamplight. He stared silently and blankly at her for what seemed to be a very long time before his face held any recognition of her presence in the room, and when they did, that old familiar sneer placed itself firmly on his pale face. Hermione recognized a flare of disappointment as this happened- he really looked much more pleasant when he wasn't twisting his face at her.

He studied her a moment and blinked widely before tiredly remarking, "I thought I smelled Mudblood."

She laughed sarcastically and frowned as the bitterness she usually experienced while in his company settled inside of her stomach, making her forget momentarily about the sympathy she had been feeling before she entered the room. "Classy, Malfoy," she said hotly, folding her arms. He seemed amused by this, as he often did, which made her blood boil even more.

He was smiling at her weakly. "What can I say? You reek of it. Not that you can't help it," he added, holding up his hand and cocking his head at her. "I mean...it must follow you around, right?" He sat up and regarded her with those bright, silver eyes, alight with malice.

Hermione gritted her teeth and stared at him defiantly. "Are you quite done?" She asked after waiting through a couple moments of silence, her anger heavy in the air.

He laughed at her and smiled spitefully. "What, Granger doesn't want to play? It's the highlight of my day, really, ridiculing you. But can you blame me?" He met her eyes intensely. "It's _so _easy."

She responded by sighing heavily and rolling her eyes and she relaxed in the chair and crossed her legs. "Lupin was right," she said, with the tone of someone who was dealing with a petulant child. "This whole distracting people away from the point of things with banter...it's a tad _annoying, _Draco. And somewhat sad." Hermione reciprocated his gaze with an equally intense one, as if challenging him.

His stare didn't wander. "And what point do you have to make, Granger, other than waking me up from a perfectly good nap?"

She smiled and held up the small glass vial, shaking it in front of his face. The amber liquid glittered in the faint orange glow of the lamp. "Time to hold up to your end of the deal, Malfoy. Or should I say, your end of the Vow?" She took pleasure at the way in which he shifted uncomfortably underneath his covers. "What I'm trying to say is you should probably stop messing about and being a prat because we all know what happens if you break your word." Hermione narrowed her eyes menacingly. "So now is _not _the time to tell me I smell of Mudblood, you filthy little ferret."

A small grin spread across his lips as he refused to break apart their gaze. He seemed to be tempting her to look away- to accept defeat- but her eyes remained defiant and steady. Finally, he stopped staring at her as his attention was drawn to the potion held tightly in her hands, his eyebrows raising in suspicion. "What's that?"

"It should...help you relax," she said, noticing the wariness in his voice. "Even though you've succeeded in making it appear as though you're fully in control, I know for a fact that your incredibly weak right now."

His cheeks went hot. "I'm _not _weak-" It was at this moment that he tried to straighten up, instead straining something and grimacing in pain as he laid back down against his pillow, huffing. He glared at her murderously, cheeks still burning. "Like I said, what's that potion?"

She raised her eyebrows, trying not to grin. "Like _I _said, it should help you relax."

"That's not what I mean," he said irritated, as if now he were dealing with a child. "What's the name of the potion, Mudblood?"

"As if you would know," she scoffed heatedly, crossing her legs again. "The only reason you received high marks in Potions is because you were Snape's _lapdog-"_

"Now who's trying to distract people from the main point?" Draco spoke tiredly and with an exasperated expression that made Hermione desperately eager to slap it off his face. "I'll say it again, Mudblood, only this time more slowly so it can penetrate that thick skull of yours." He paused and sneered at her before speaking slowly and loudly, as though she were dumb and deaf. "What...is..._that," _he pointed at the vial in her hand with wide eyes, "potion?"

Hermione bit her lip before answering stiffly. "A Calming Potion." She brushed her hair out of her face and scowled before shaking her head angrily. "And why are you so eager to know, Malfoy? You accept everything else I give you without question."

He looked towards the window, as if thinking about something that had been formulating in his head for quite awhile now. The white strip of moonlight rested on his cheek. "Of course I do- you wouldn't want yourself killed by breaking the Vow, would you? But," he said, turning his eyes to the potion again, "I had a sneaking suspicion that you would try to _cheat."_

She didn't understand. "What to you mean, cheat?"

Malfoy goggled at her. "Veritaserum, dear."

Hermione could not express how much she did not want Malfoy addressing her by 'dear', be it sarcastic or otherwise. "Obviously you were lousy in Potions. Veritaserum is _transparent."_

"I _know_ that," he said, sighing loudly and rolling his eyes. "But given your..._decent_ knowledge in Potions, I'd figured you'd manage to find a way to conceal it or camouflage it to look like a Calming Potion." He looked at her snidely, as if he was sensing her thoughts. Shockingly enough, he responded to them exactly. "And I know you'd say, Granger, with your little knowledge of how Vows are commenced, that there would be no point in a truth serum, as long as I wanted to keep my life, right?" He waited for her to respond.

Begrudgingly, she did. "Right."

"Of course," he said in a tone of superiority. He then commenced his speech as though he were teaching her a lesson that was well over her head. "Well, the thing about Vows is that they're not so concrete." He raised his eyebrows at her, sensing her willingness to interrupt. "They're not at all. Sure, I told you I would tell you everything I knew about the Dark Lord and his plans, but I never specified when. I could have the _intentions _to tell you five years from now, and that would keep me safe from the Vow at the present time."

Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief as she stood up from her chair. She was really starting to hate the fact that he knew more about certain things than she did. It was..._annoying_, she thought, as she looked down upon him, smirking evilly and meeting her eyes. "B-But...you _can't_ tell me in five years! I need that information _now!" _It was at this time that she realized his suspicion- Veritaserum would be a way of ensuring that she received the information at the present time...a way to be sure of his truthfulness in an instant. _It's actually a brilliant idea, _she thought, still eying him in shock.

"Oh yes, I could. Thankfully for you, I don't feel like torturing you that much." His face suddenly went very pale. "Just...give me that," he motioned towards the glinting vial of copper potion in her hand, "...and let's get this over with." He grimaced as he sat up again slowly, adding in an undertone, "_Merlin _this is so degrading..."

She sat back down again and smirked at him, an mischievous light in her eyes. So she won this round. "Here," she said, handing him the small vial. "Drink it...it'll help you feel more at ease."

A hesitant light entered his eyes before he quietly obeyed, quickly bringing the potion to his lips and downing it in one swig. His face screwed up instantly at the taste ("_Granger, was that really necessary_?") and he made an expression as though to retch before he grew tense and stared at her edgily for several moments before he visibly relaxed, slumping against his pillow and regarding her with calm, glassy eyes. For a moment she hoped that this would relax Malfoy to the point where he could act distinctly un-Malfoy like (_More like not be an ass, _she thought silently), but these hopes were duly shattered when he mumbled half-heartedly. "Alright then, Mudblood. Let's get on with it."

She bit the inside of her cheek angrily before straightening up in her chair and asking astutely, "Where is Voldemort right now?"

He shuddered all over as she spoke his name, but quickly returned back to his subdued state before replying. "The last I was with him, he was staying at my house." He interpreted the clueless look on her face. "_Malfoy Manor, _Granger. You know, big mansion?" He spoke calmly- the potion was most definitely helping the situation.

She nodded coolly, trying to remain as patient as he was. It was, not surprisingly, hard. "We raided Malfoy Manor the day you arrived on my doorstep. It's completely abandoned."

A genuine look of shock entered his face before he glanced down at the ground. "Well, that's where he was staying before I...left." He finished his sentence lamely.

Hermione, for a moment, considered informing Draco about the state of his house when she and Harry had been there not too long ago. Her mind glazed over the image of a dead Gregory Goyle in the middle of a bloody massacre of bodies...

"And speaking of that," she said, picking so deftly on where he had left off. "Why did you leave?"

He blinked widely. "The Curse. I thought I was going to die if I stayed there any longer."

_You might still be, _she thought in silence before asking, "Who performed the Curse against you, Draco?"

He opened his mouth as though to answer before looking at her dully and responding in a flat tone, "I don't have to tell you that."

She was preparing to snap at him before remembering that he was right- his Curse had nothing to do with Voldemort's plans. Hermione was somewhat disheartened by the fact that she had yet to know who performed the Curse she was so desperately trying to correct...be it for her own sake. Sighing, she pressed on with questioning, "Were you aware of any plans that You-Know-Who had of perhaps switching locations of headquarters?"

She was feeling distinctly disappointed before he surprisingly responded, "He could be at Spinner's End."

"Spinner's End-?"

"Professor Snape's house," Malfoy responded blankly and closed his eyes.

"But- doesn't Professor Snape live in a small cottage? Not nearly large enough to house all of his Death Eaters..."

"Well of course," he said evenly, opening his eyes once more to gaze outside. Hermione couldn't help but appreciate the stillness of his face in the blinding light of the moon. "You could never house all of the Dark Lord's followers. They're spread all over the country...they're everywhere," he added, once again closing his eyes for a moment and opening them again. "I'd thought _you_ would know that, Granger."

The calm tone in which he spoke didn't match his words, but it was nice not to hear the malicious sharpness in his voice when he addressed her by her surname. She leaned forward in her chair and rested her head in her hand. "I _did_ know that, Malfoy, but of course You-Know-Who only keeps his most devoted followers in his presence constantly, for instance your parents, as he did at your family's manor." When she mentioned his family, she noted the anger that flared in his eyes before they went glassy and calm again. "So why Spinner's End? Why a small cottage on the off skirts of town?"

Thankfully, he seemed to have forgotten the comment about his mother and father as he opened his mouth to answer, eyebrows slightly lifted in dull interest. "No one would expect it, would they? Just like you don't now." The moonlight flickered in his eyes. "Snape is the only one he truly trusts. Even more than my Aunt Bella, and she's practically in love with him."

"That's sick," Hermione said off-handedly, glaring at him.

"Oh well," Draco responded dully.

They sat in calm silence for a few moments before Hermione felt compelled to break it. "Does he have any plans for attacking the Order? I know he can't know the location," she said, half speaking to herself as she twiddled her thumbs in her lap. "Snape was specifically _not_ made the Secret Keeper. After Dumbledore died, everyone figured the magic would be dispersed upon everyone so that we'd all have an equal share of the Secret." She looked up at Draco for a moment and then quickly resumed the twidling of her thumbs. "But apparently Dumbledore figured out a way to switch the magic over to someone of his choosing after his death_." _She paused and looked up once more, following Malfoy's steady gaze to the moon. "_I_ am the Secret Keeper of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. I don't know why he chose me, but that ensures that Snape alone can't gain entry here, and even if you were stupid enough to go and attempt to tell him, it would be fruitless as well."

Draco regarded her without expression before answering. "The Dark Lord did have plans, yes. I believe he's grown aware of the fact that Potter has been slowly finding...I'm not sure what they are...but important artifacts that could lead to his downfall..."

"Horcruxes," Hermione said knowingly. She noted the remote look of confusion on his face before adding, "They're pieces of Voldemort's soul, split and placed into certain objects so that he could come back were he to be defeated. Basically, his way of making death an impossibility."

A look of understanding went over Malfoy's pale face. "Yes...I've heard of that..."

"Well, Dumbledore believed that there were seven Horcruxes in all, meaning that Voldemort has split his soul seven times." Hermione expected Draco to look up at her, astonished, but instead he nodded quietly as though this bit of information wasn't shocking at all. _He's been around him for almost three years, _Hermione reminded herself as she sighed loudly. _He probably understands his evil more than I ever could..._

She was pulled out of her reverie as Draco spoke, a tone of interest hidden behind the calmness in his voice. "How many has Potter found?"

"Four. Harry has found and destroyed four of You-Know-Who's horcruxes." It was true; at this point in time, Harry had destroyed the diary in the Chamber of Secrets in his second year, the locket (after a long and tiring fiasco at the Ministry of Magic involving Dolores Umbridge), the ring that Dumbledore defeated in their sixth year, and the diadem that Neville (now Professor Longbottom) delivered to them after his seventh year.

It had been three years since the beginning of their seventh year at Hogwarts that they none of them had ever attended, and after so much trial and strain (_and loss_, thought Hermione, imagining Ron's smiling face), four of the seven had been destroyed. This left three unsaid Horcruxes, and then finally, Voldemort. A trigger of fright went through her as she looked across at Malfoy, bathed in moonlight, looking impossibly composed. "And you say he knows?" Hermione could only guess the fury of Voldemort if he became aware of this.

"I think he suspects. But he can't find you here, can he?"

She shook her head numbly.

Draco looked up at her with a muffled sense of interest. "Do you know what the other three horcruxes are?"

Hermione sighed and shrugged halfheartedly. Part of her noted the odd fact that Malfoy, beneath all that potion, sounded faintly...concerned. "We have hunches," she said, eyeing him suspiciously. "We're almost completely sure that a cup that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff long ago is now a horcrux, but it's a little..._complicated_."

"What do you mean 'complicated'?" Draco asked, turning his full attention towards her. "How can a _cup_ be more complicated that a decades-old diary containing the soul of a teenage Tom Riddle?"

He spoke with the faintest traces of urgency in his voice- Hermione was sure that if he weren't heavily drugged, he would be near shouting now. Which was..._weird, _she thought with a frown. _The only things I've seen Malfoy passionate about are the things that involve himself. _She decided after a few moments of studying these peculiar signs to answer him. "The location of the cup is what makes it complicated, Malfoy. Whereas the _brilliance_ of your father slipped that horcrux right into our hands," she said, eyes narrowed at him, "Helga Hufflepuff's heirloom is, we've discovered, located at Gringotts, the most heavily secured wizarding bank in history." Malfoy straightened up a little bit at this. "Who's vault, we don't-"

"Bella."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. "W-What?"

"Aunt Bella," he said, a dawning look of comprehension hidden behind his otherwise bored-looking face. He spoke with an air of finality as though there were no way it wasn't true. "He was...He was talking about Gringotts with her before I left. About something in her vault. I wasn't exactly _engrossed_ in the situation considering I was bleeding to death all over the carpet at the time, but I remember that. He was shouting at her. And now that you mention it, I think he said something about Potter." His eyes traveled to her face. "That horcrux is definitely in my Aunt Bella's vault at Gringotts."

Hermione's heart was beating rapidly in her chest; all of this information, all of this _crucial _information...it was all being given willingly from Malfoy. No Veritaserum, no coersion (other than the Vow that _he_ decided to commence)- he was sensibly telling her all of this. It seemed too good to be true. She felt a strong burst of pride as she gazed at Malfoy, who was sitting serenely on his bed, staring out into the moonlight. She could've given him a hug at that moment, but some part of her heavily suspected that even a drugged Malfoy could think of no bigger crime than being _hugged _by the Mudblood. Still, even at this thought, she couldn't stop smirking- _beaming_. "I can't believe it," she said out loud, as he turned to face her again. "I should give you this stuff all the time," Hermione grinned, nodding toward the drained vial in Malfoy's grasp. "You're much more pleasant when you're..._calm."_

"I hate it," he said, dreamy eyes focusing in on her if only for a moment. "I've got all these clever things to say but no energy for them. For instance, this whole time I've been wanting to remark on the..._awful _state of your hair," he gave a lackluster shudder, "but I just can't muster the energy. Never give me this stuff again, okay? It takes away a piece of me. I piece of me I thoroughly enjoy."

"A piece that we'd all be better off without," she said heavily, standing up and placing her hands on her hips. "See how productive we can be when you're not being evil?" Hermione was beginning to feel good about her decision to question him; she was almost completely free of the guilt that had been consuming her when she so hesitantly walked into the room.

But it was at this moment that her eyes found their way to his pale face again, still unmoving and fixed on the window. He looked tired- drained. So unlike himself that it was slightly disturbing. And the complete deadness in his eyes brought back the heavy weight in her heart that had been there before she entered the room.

Staring at his expressionless face, she wanted to tell him that she was sorry- that she simply _had _to question him tonight. That if she didn't, she would have to endure the looks of distrust from everyone in the house for yet another day. And she couldn't stand that.

_But I've got all this information, _she thought, biting her lip, still gazing upon Malfoy. _All of this priceless information..._

Oddly enough, her guilt was not relieved at all. She felt greedy...devious. Utterly disgusting. Although Malfoy hadn't said so before she had administered the potion, she felt like she really _had_ cheated. She came and slipped a weary man a potion he couldn't rightly refuse, and now he sat here looking dead and bored and so unlike himself that it was frightening. As strange as it sounded, she would've given anything to see that old familiar look of malice in those now-dead eyes...that vintage Malfoy smirk...

Hermione thought for a terrifying moment that she was going to cry before he turned to her again, looking impassive. There seemed to be something pleading behind those eyes...hidden behind the calm. She mustered up a smile. "You'll be yourself tomorrow. Then you can make all the snide comments about my hair you desire, Malfoy."

Something flashed in his eyes if only for a brief moment. "It really does look dreadful, Mudblood."

And as she turned to leave the room, this comment made her feel oddly relieved.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**A/N: **Hmmm...I wish I had something witty to say. But I am just too excited to see what you guys have to say about this chapter. You know how to tell me what you thought, right? See, there's this wacky new invention called _reviews..._I don't know if you've heard of it but it really is a corking experience (HA...I stole that from Fred and George...OH FRED). I would say something about that majestic beta of mine, that glorious Strategem Blue, the most helpful, devoted beta one could ever hope for! Oh, the things she's done to help me...(silence HAHAHAH I crack me up)...

She's a'ight though. But yes, please review. I predict you will find it highly illuminating.


	7. The Warning

**Disclaimer: **Witty disclaimers are hard to write. HA. I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, book seven of the series would've been called 'Harry Potter and the Mud-Wrestling Match with Sexy Draco.' Now I don't know about you guys, but THAT sounds like some good literature to me.

**Thanks for the reviews: **You...complete me (Ha...Tom Cruise).

**A/N: **Okay guys, I've finally finished chapter seven (two people in the world cheer). Sorry it's taken awhile, but my senior year just started and let me tell you...it sucks. Well, it's not as bad as the others, but bleh, it's still school. The gaps between my chapters might start to grow a little larger at this point, what with preparing for college and having to write about ten short stories a week for my creative writing class, but don't worry, I would never abandon Hermione and Draco! So, for all the people who have read this much without going, 'whatever, this chick's dumb, what happens to Malfoy?' and skipping this note, I'd like to thank you for following this story so far and say kindly to enjoy chapter seven!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Well, he's _obviously _not telling the truth."

Hermione gaped widely at her old Defense Against the Darks Arts teacher, half-hoping that a small smile would appear on his worn face and reveal the fact that he was joking. Sadly, his mouth remained firmly straight; his eyes the same unaffected blue as before. She shook her head defiantly and cast her gaze towards the ceiling. He was being ridiculous. "You must be joking," she stated, staring at Lupin obliviously.

"I don't joke very much, Hermione. Especially when we're talking about Death Eaters." He shared a meaningful look with his girlfriend, who nodded her pink-hued head vigorously. Moody grunted in the corner and his electric-blue eye swam sickeningly in his socket.

"But...he's made a Vow with me! How can you possibly suggest that he's being untruthful?" She stood up quickly from her chair and paced the cluttered kitchen, dim yellow light dancing in her disbelieving eyes. _This is preposterous, _she thought frantically as Lupin shifted in his chair, looking furtive. She stopped pacing and pointed a shaking finger at him. "You've got it in for him- you've had it in for him from the start!" She knew she was being unreasonable- making wild statements- but some part of her was unbelievably angry at their skepticism. They had no idea the guilt that still weighed on her from the night before...the way she had taken the life out of those usually lively (be it with malice) silver eyes. And now they were daring enough to question him, and ultimately, question her? Part of her felt almost..._betrayed, _she thought angrily, defiantly meeting their unwavering stares.

"You heard him yourself, Miss," Moody spoke as he lumbered out of the corner looking thoughtful. "The boy knows a bit or two about Unbreakable Vows. Hell, only a handful of wizards know how to bend the rules of an Unbreakable Vow, most of them havin' learned that trick from You-Know-Who himself." He shook his head. "It's downright dirty, cheating on a Vow. Having the 'intentions' to be truthful while keepin' your jaw shut." His thin mouth was set in a scowl as he cast his eyes upward toward the ceiling where Malfoy undoubtedly was silently snoozing. "I'll be damned if the boy's not keepin' a hell of a lot of information from us."

Hermione could hardly speak. She looked pleadingly at Tonks, who raised her eyebrows suspiciously. _All of that work...and they still don't believe me, _she thought sadly. She shook her head. "I can't believe that." She couldn't quite describe it, but there was a feeling in the pit of her stomach...a _knowing _feeling...and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that Malfoy hadn't kept anything from her. _Nothing at all..._

"You have to believe that, Hermione. Did you think things were going to be this simple?" Tonks folded her hands in her lap. "For the long time in which I've known my cousin, I've known one thing for certain: he's _tricky."_

"Well of course he's tricky! You only need to be in his presence for a couple of minutes to understand that much! But can't you see," Hermione stated, pacing the room once again, her long shadow following her around, "He's told us enough already! Do you understand that he has just told us the location of a horcrux? A _horcrux! _What else do you need to know? He's brought us one step closer to vanquishing Voldemort!" It was true; they were now equipped with the precious knowledge of where Helga Hufflepuff's old heirloom was...how else would they have gained that information without Malfoy's help?

"Hermione, we were almost one hundred percent assured that that cup was a horcrux already," said Lupin, finally standing up and pacing the room with his chin in his palm. Tonks's eyes followed him around devotedly. "By any means, this is not new information-"

"Aren't you listening?" Hermione felt her voice rising, sounding almost hysteric. She didn't care though- _this is outrageous, _she thought, face growing hot. "He told us _where _it is! What good is the knowledge that the cup is a horcrux if we don't know _where_ it is? It's in Bellatrix LeStrange's vault at Gringotts- Draco said so!"

Hermione was a little taken back at the fervor in which she spoke- the way she was so heatedly defending her former nemesis. She was filled with an odd wave of strangeness before she convinced herself that this was only ethical...why wouldn't she defend someone who had risked things beyond imagine to help her? _Yes, ethical, of course...logical even..._

"Don't you see? This is yet another example of a tricky young man misleading others to his advantage! Yes, Hermione," said Lupin loudly, shaking his head. "He's given you everything to need to figure out his real intentions. First, he states that there are ways around an Unbreakable Vow-"

"But he said he wasn't going to do that!" Hermione shouted while throwing her hands up in the air, blood rushing to her cheeks.

"And now you're just going to take his word for it?" Lupin stated baldly while closing his eyes. After a moment of collecting himself, he continued quietly. "Secondly, he states that Helga Hufflepuff's cup is in Bellatrix LeStrange's vault at Gringotts Bank." At this Lupin laughed lightly. "Of course, the most heavily protected bank in magical _history_-"

"What are you getting at?" Hermione asked loudly, although she knew exactly what he was getting at, be it completely nonsensical and ludicrous. But in the haze of her disbelief, a part of her wanted to hear him say it, so she could know the full extent of his lunacy...his irrationality...

"What a nice little trap, don't you think?" He was pacing in full stride now, and Hermione was heavily reminded of his days at Hogwarts in which he would pace confidently around the room while speaking of redcaps and hinkypunks. He motioned with his hands as he spoke. "Yes, Malfoy says that the horcrux we need is at Gringotts. So say we believe this and follow suit, coming up with a plan in which to acquire this cup." At this he paused and ceased his pacing to look widely at her. "This is impossible. And, were we crazy enough to attempt it, we'd be killed."

Hermione's brain was racing faster than she thought it could, her temples throbbing painfully. She knew- she _knew- _that Malfoy had told her the truth. She felt somewhat foolish for believing him so unquestionably, but she found it almost impossible to believe he was lying. As she was thinking frantically through all this, it hit her. She nearly gasped. "Wait- he _must_ be telling the truth!"

Tonks sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. "And we're supposed to believe this _why?"_

"B-Because," she was almost too excited to speak, "Because there were more terms to the Vow!"

Moody barked out a note of laughter. "Oh, were there?" His eye gave a nauseating roll.

"Yes," uttered Hermione in a pleading sort of tone. "I made Malfoy promise me, after we had cleared the initial terms, that he would do nothing to interfere with the Order...don't you see? He said that he would be on our side! If this was all some well-concocted plan to get us all killed, he would be dead, wouldn't he? Because he would have attempted to fool us into believing the cup was at Gringott's when it really wasn't!" Her eyes darted towards the three adults, who were somehow looking unconvinced. "What? Do you want to go upstairs and check if he's still breathing?"

Moody's eye quickly jumped to the top of his socket. "Ar, he's still alive," he said, almost in a disappointed tone. "And cleaning out his fingernails with your hairbrush at that, giggling and all." Moody shook his head. "Right little bastard..."

Hermione had to admit, the fact that Malfoy was at the moment using her hairbrush for those purposes was somewhat unsettling, but there were more important matters to be tended to, like the fact that Malfoy was not trying to kill them. "Let's not get off topic," she said, looking at Moody, who was gritting his teeth and continuing to watch Malfoy one floor above with murder in both of his eyes. "This means that the horcrux is in that vault at Gringotts right now as we speak. Malfoy wasn't lying." It felt peculiarly relieving to say that aloud, because now it had to be true. She felt a sweeping wave of gratitude for Draco Malfoy that she would have never in her life imagined she could feel. _So he's not a total worthless ferret, is he? _She thought with a snide smile as Tonks furrowed her eyebrows at her. Hermione studied her face and could not believe the look on it by the single fact that it didn't look convinced..._not one bit_...

"So now you tell us these terms, Hermione? Did you simply...forget about them earlier?" Her pink hair glowed brightly as she spoke in a muted sort of tone. "You say that you actually got my cousin, a _Malfoy_, to swear that he was on the side of_ good_? That he wouldn't interfere with us?" At this, a hint of emotion entered her voice that sounded similar to disgust. _"And you expect us to believe that_?"

Her heart dropped painfully in her chest as her throat suddenly became very, very dry. Breathing shallowly, she turned to look at Lupin and Moody, hoping beyond all hope that they wouldn't share Tonk's overwhelming look of pity and repulsion on their faces. But they did. Hermione could hardly speak. "You think that I..._made this up_?"

"Hermione," Tonks started, finally standing from her chair and walking towards Lupin. She stopped when she was beside him. "We've seen what you're willing to do to have your way...to fulfill your plans. You brought a Death Eater into this house, a _murderer_, all the while believing whole-heartedly that it was the right thing to do." She shook her head and wrapped an arm around Lupin's. "And now you want us to follow his words blindly to our death with the last second excuse that he swore to 'be on our side'? Really, Hermione...I'm disappointed." At this she paused, a deep look of dislike overtaking her usually pleasant face. "I figured you cleverer than that, if you wanted to sway us."

Hermione felt nauseous as three pairs of eyes bored into her, distrust and sad sympathy in their painful stares. _They really believe this, _she thought as her stomach lurched horribly. She could feel her eyes stinging, silent sobs hurting her ribs and she quickly took in breath. Swallowing hard, she willed herself not to cry- not to show weakness. With much effort, she spoke. "Fine. If that's what you want to believe. Truly...I can't believe the three of you have become this misguided. You're willing to throw everything Dumbledore and Harry worked towards away because of your prejudices." She laughed lightly as her cheeks became unbearably hot. "And I suppose you have no suggestions as of what should be done? You're just here to tell me I'm wrong?" She sniffed loudly. "Useless. That's what you are. _Useless."_

Lupin's face remained stone still as he rubbed Tonk's arm soothingly. She also seemed near tears. "We will not be talked to this way, Hermione. I don't know _when _you got the idea that Dumbledore left you in charge of the Order or when you'd figured out that you had all of the answers, but you're sadly mistaken, and I truly pity you at this moment." He sighed as his wrinkles seemed to grow deeper in seconds. "The War has really changed you."

It was too much- at this Hermione could no longer hold it in. With shame she felt a hot tear roll down her face, her breath coming in hitches. "I can't believe I ever trusted any of you. Because obviously," she stated, looking at all three of them in disgust, "you _never _trusted me." At this, she noticed the slight trembling of her hands, and with a new bolt of shame, she quickly folded them. "And I was right, you have no suggestions of what should be done. How can you be upset at me for trying to take matters into my own hands? Nothing has been accomplished since Dumbledore died. _Nothing_. You are all too hesitant and spineless to actually make a move- to actually _do _something! So tell me, if we're now to believe that Draco has broken an Unbreakable Vow and that he's trying to kill us all, what do we do now? Wait? All we've done is wait! Three years of it! _What do we do now_?"

"Veritaserum."

At this, all fours heads turned in alarm towards the doorway in which Harry was standing with his arms crossed, the eerie light from the kitchen playing in his deep, green eyes.

"Harry," gulped Hermione, staring at him pleadingly. None of them had noticed him standing there; he was always so silent. "Harry, you believe me right? You wanted Malfoy to stay here...you told me you thought is was a good idea..."

He ignored her as his gaze was primarily set on Lupin. He spoke in a hauntingly calm voice. "You want the solution? Veritaserum. You say the Vow has come into question...you say he can twist it. Well, give him something...un-twistable. See if Hermione's right. And if she isn't, we'll take action against _him_." He spoke the last sentence with a swell of greed, and Hermione was wholly convinced that were 'action' to take place, Harry would love nothing more than to be in charge of it. That same murderous light entered his eyes briefly before they settled once more into focused emerald. "We've got stores of it in the drawing room...Snape left it. Let's put it to use, shall we?"

A lurch of refusal went through Hermione. "No," she said loudly, shaking her head. "That's unethical. Veritaserum is a _last resort! _It's cruel- they don't even use it at trials! It's invasive on the human psyche, forcing people to spill out their deepest secrets without a thought towards their own humanity! We are _not _giving Malfoy Veritaserum," she finished firmly, mouth set. She could hardly believe it was even a topic of discussion, and brought about by Harry of all people. _I don't even know what to think anymore, _she thought sadly, looking around the room at a handful of faces she couldn't trust.

"You speak of Draco Malfoy as though we should pity the lad," stated Moody obviously. "That right there is your problem, Hermione. You trust vermin like him too easily...giving him Veritaserum is a sign of mercy...at least we're not throwing him to the Dementors to have their way." He shook his grizzled mane. "That boy is scum. I can't trust that boy as far as I can throw him. Well, actually," he paused, eye rolling, "I take that back. Lad's skinny, I could hurl him pretty far. But all aside, it's a fatal accident to trust a Malfoy." He turned towards Harry. "Potter's got the right idea."

Heart shattering, she looked towards Lupin and Tonks.

"I agree," Lupin spoke quietly. "Harry is right...in fact it would be foolish not to. You were right when you said we had a well of information lying upstairs, Hermione. The thing is we've got to force it out of him. He deserves no sympathy."

Tonks spoke solidly, no emotion on her face. "Yes. You want us to take action, then we will. First thing tomorrow sound good to you?"

Hermione suspected that she would be tempted to cry again, but she was surprised by the total lack of sadness that enveloped her. If anything, she felt disgusted as she looked into each of their eyes, lastly stopping at Harry, who's eyes were swirling behind his glasses. All of them looked resolute- like tyrants. Without answering, she walked out of them room and slammed to door behind her, the sound of dishes shaking following in her wake.

---------------------------------------------------------

She knew exactly where she was going. Trying her best to control her trembling, she stomped up the stairs and turned sharply when she reached the top of them, marching down the hall and throwing open the door without a second thought. Alarmed, Malfoy looked up at her. He was digging dirt out of his nails with her hairbrush as he sat in the middle of the mattress with his legs folded underneath him. At the sight of her, he smiled ruefully. "I figured this was the best utensil for it, seeing as you've already got enough dirt in your hair to really make a difference."

Hermione's face didn't budge- she stared at him evenly. He seemed to notice this with an odd look on his face.

"Something wrong, Granger? Did a house elf die? Did someone misplace a _book_?" He stopped speaking as he noted her total lack of response and paused thoughtfully, taking in the wet lines on her face and the shallow way in which she was breathing. "You're scaring me, Granger- what's wrong?"

"They don't believe you, Malfoy." It was all she could say without completely losing it, without falling apart in front of her old enemy. "They don't believe you."

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing- he actually _laughed. _"Is this a joke? Are you telling me your bloody Order thinks I _lied? _Thinks I broke a Vow? No wonder my parents joined the Dark Lord! Your lot is mad!" He shook his head and laughed loudly. "Really, Dumbledore should've chosen his followers better."

She couldn't possibly express to him how not funny this was. "You don't understand. They think you're trying to mislead us. I can't explain it to you- honestly I don't understand myself- but they've got it in their minds that you are luring us to Gringotts as a ruse to get us all killed." She spoke flatly, gazing into his pale face.

It was a moment before he spoke, looking bemused. "I'm flattered. They think I'm actually that clever. Well, you can't blame them." He looked up at her with a smirk playing the corners of his lips. "So what are they going to do, then? Can't be that serious..."

Hermione spoke evenly. "They are going to give you Veritaserum."

A look of utter shock slapped him in the face as his mouth parted and his gray eyes grew larger than she'd ever seen them. He went even paler than she thought possible. "No...no way...t-they _can't..." _At this, he gained his composure quickly as his face became flushed. "You won't let them. You _can't _let them-"

"I have no control over what they do, Malfoy. They've obviously expressed to me that what I have to say means nothing to them anymore. I tried to defend you..._I _believed you, Malfoy." At this, her heart gave a sickening swoop. "But now they don't believe either of us. There's nothing I can do other than prepare you."

He looked crestfallen- in heart-staggering shock. "They _can't _do that...that's beyond reason. They can't put me outside my bloody _self-control_!" Malfoy shouted loudly as his pale face became red. "And I thought your side was good, Granger! You're no better than Him." At this a frightening light overcame his eyes. "You...you can't let them..."

Hermione studied him quietly. He looked afraid, trapped..._terrified_, she noted in silence. Part of her wished she had something comforting to say, but she drew nothing but a blank. She felt completely hollow and empty.

Malfoy looked at her evenly. "And I thought I had a bit of good news for the day. I'm getting _better_, Granger." He paused bitterly. "At least I'm not bleeding buckets onto your sheets," he said dryly, looking down at the bed below him. "And you know what? Part of me felt _good _for helping you. I thought that for the first time in my pathetic life I was actually helping somebody. I wasn't going to tell anyone that, but it's no use keeping things to myself anymore...you'll just _force_ it out of me-"

"_Stop_ including me when you speak of them," she erupted hotly, the feeling of emptiness finally leaving her. "Can't you see I've been trying to defend you? I don't want them to do this! It stands against everything the Order stands for- everything Dumbledore stood for-"

"Oh, the saint. Let's talk about this group of people your bloody saint's put together-"

"_Do _not_ talk about Albus Dumbledore in front of me_," she uttered with an insane look in her eyes. "He was willing to help you, don't you remember? When you were alone and pathetic on the Astronomy Tower- oh yes, Harry told me. He was there you stupid git. Dumbledore tried to help you...he pitied you. Figured you a lost soul pitted against a horrible upbringing. Was he the only one who ever offered to help you?" Hermione asked him quietly, reading every strike of emotion on his face. At this, he looked murderous. She began to walk closer, hatred dripping from her words. "He was, wasn't he? 'Poor, pathetic Malfoy. No one wants to help me.' You're disgusting," she said loathingly. "And now you're going to sit here and mock the only person in your whole wretched existence that wanted to help you? You make me _sick."_

"_Shut. Your. Mouth." _He uttered his words like venom as he looked at her with pure hatred. "You have no idea what you're talking about, you filthy Mudblood."

Without thinking; without even realizing what she was doing, she slapped him hard across the face. His head lashed to the side with the force of it, and when he turned to meet his eyes with her again, he looked oddly..._hollow. _Nothing seemed to be registered on his face whatsoever other than shock as his cheek glowed red on his pale skin.

Shaking with anger, Hermione shook her head stiffly. "After all I've done for you, you think you can sit here and call me a 'Mudblood'?" Her voice was quiet and dangerous. "If you could've seen the way I defended you down there, you insignificant slime...and you're not even worth it. I can't believe I didn't see that until now." With that, she turned towards the door and began to walk towards it, eyes stinging and heart feeling lower than it had in a long, long time...

"_Wait!"_

She turned to face him and was shocked to see the features on his pale face neither twisted in anger or hatred...if anything, he looked urgent..._desperate_, she added to herself, tracing the lights in his eyes and the lines of worry on his face. Everything in him seemed to be willing her to stay still- not to turn around and walk out of that door. In fact, he looked sorry for making her even wish to do that, which was more implausible than anything Hermione had ever imagined. Astonished, she gaped at him, waiting.

Malfoy stared at her blankly, eyes shining in a dire sort of way. Finally, he spoke. "Okay, I take it back...the Mudblood comment was unnecessary." For a moment he paused and looked as though he were in pain before he uttered with much effort, "I'm..._sorry."_

Hermione couldn't help but smirk at him, looking disgusted with himself. "Do you really mean that? If so...I don't know what to think..." It was true- if that brief flash of regret in his eyes was genuinely sincere, then Hermione had just witnessed something she had thought impossible, and it was slightly..._unnerving_.

He welled up defensively. "Well, find something to think, because I do mean it," he said abashedly as he cast his eyes away and folded his arms. He looked somewhat like a child as he screwed up his face into a scowl and looked down at the bed. "Merlin, this is _humiliating_."

"And why is acting like a decent human being humiliating?" She snapped hotly, ignoring how funny he looked glowering. It was hard, but she kept her face straight and narrowed her eyes at him, trying to find a trace of something she could follow- something that could tell her why Malfoy was the way he was...why he felt so ashamed to be acting moral. But he made no sign as though he had heard her question, choosing to look down at the mattress below him with a queer look on his face. Hermione considered asking again but found herself once again intrigued as to why Malfoy had stopped her from walking away. She shook her head to herself and sighed. "Alright, I'm here...now what do you want from me, Malfoy?"

"What?" His head snapped back up as he fixed her with a shifty glare. "I can't just tell someone I'm _sorry_?" Malfoy looked affronted- as though by asking him this question she had offended him on so many levels. "Fine," he uttered haughtily. "Next time I won't apologize when I call you a Mudblood,..._Mudblood_," he added in a sly afterthought, grinning evilly to himself. She made to dive at him before his eyes went large and he held up his hands in defense. "I was kidding! Goodness, Granger. It's called a bloody _joke..."_

"Well, it's not funny, and you still haven't answered my question." She rolled her eyes as he once again acted offended. "Come on, I know for a fact you wouldn't have put yourself through the deep shame of apologizing if you didn't want something."

He considered this for a moment before he crumpled in a sign of defeat and sighed heavily. "Fine. Okay. You're right...like you always are, Granger." He paused to sneer at her with a look of contempt overtaking and twisting his narrow face before, at length, he spoke again. "It's starting to get old, this whole know-it-all thing you've got going. Bit annoying as well," he added lowly, grumbling.

"What is it that you want then, Malfoy?" He sat angrily and in silence. "Come on, spit it out you stubborn ferret, you." Hermione suspected by the look on his face that the last thing he wanted to do was tell her why he needed her to stay in the room, and she was duly shocked as he reluctantly opened his mouth to answer.

"If there's _anything_ you can do," he spoke softly, eyes glassily focused on the dusty carpet, "Anything whatsoever...don't let them do this." At this he lifted his gaze, eyes brighter and more intense than she had ever seen them before- it fact the glowing nature of them rattled her a bit and her breath hitched in her throat. He set his jaw and added stiffly, "_Please_."

Hermione wanted to shake her head in exasperation and tell him that there was nothing she could do (_Which by all means is true, _she reminded herself sadly), but the look in eyes was so pleading- so completely unprotected and vulnerable- that she could not bring herself to do it. _But this is Malfoy, _she thought promptly. _Why wouldn't I tell him the truth? That would be logical..._

Yet at the same time, she would do all she could, wouldn't she? _I already have. _She bit the inside of her cheek as she thought it through, eventually coming to a conclusion. Hermione looked into his eyes, reminding herself to remember the way in which he was looking at her- she doubted he would ever let his guard down like this again. _And that's a shame, _she thought with a frown, _it's so very human of him. _"I'll do what I can." It was all she could say without bending the truth or giving him false hope. "I'll do whatever I can."

His eyes dimmed and his face went utterly blank.

"This is where you would say thank you," she said obviously with large eyes. He remained silent, almost brooding. She remained there, ogling at him for what seemed like hours, before he made to respond.

"I'll thank you when I'm not having my past ripped out of me, okay?" A little flicker of life went through his face again as he mustered a smirk. "Other than that, you can have your hairbrush back." He picked up it up at threw it at her, missing by inches. "Shame...I meant to hit you."

_Really, _she thought, studying his returned-malice. _He is completely impossible to understand. _Frowning, she held up her chin and looked down at him as though his nonsense was beneath her, smiling idly. "Goodbye, Malfoy."

Hermione turned to exit the room before he shouted loudly, "I would get the hairbrush if I were you- you sort of _need_ it!"

Fake-calm leaving her, she slammed the door behind her. _That prat!_

She stood with her back to the door, fuming in anger, before the usual worry swept slowly over her as she remembered yet another of the promises she had made to Malfoy. _The problem with _this_ promise, _she thought sadly, _is that it is virtually un-keepable. _Hermione could not imagine what could be said to sway their decision to give him Veritaserum...to have Malfoy's 'past ripped out of him'. Every ounce of her wished there was something she could do, but she had reached a dead end at this point. There was no relying on any of them anymore. _Not even Harry, _she thought with a pang of dread, remembering the complete remoteness and space between them as he stood in the kitchen, deciding his supposed enemy's fate. She didn't want to give Malfoy false hope, but what else could she give him? If she had told him the truth, he would be destroyed right now- cursing and thrashing and probably declaring to be set loose into a world of evil that wanted payback on him. _Most likely a death sentence... At least false hope keeps him alive..._

Crookshanks walked bandy-legged down the hall and rubbed his whiskers on her ankle. Distractedly, she bent down and bundled him in her arms as he meowed deeply. Hermione bit her lip as a new thought entered her brain among the usual chaos: _what in Malfoy's past is so horrible that he would have to bring himself to plead to a Mudblood? What is he so utterly desperate to keep hidden?_

She had no idea what, and as Hermione numbly walked down the hall to her bedroom with Crookshanks in her arms, she could hardly imagine what she would hear tomorrow morning spilling unshielded from his mouth...what truths would be ripped from his soul without a second thought. And part of her was absolutely _terrified_ by that.

_---------------------------------------------------------------------_

**A/N: **Hooo-ray. Another chapter finished, another chapter to come as they say. Believe me, the next chapter is going to be _intense_...it's probably one of the chapters I've been looking forward to the most. Now this is the part where I thank my beta Stratagem Blue, that beacon of light in a sea of darkness who oh-so directs me to places of greatness in which I could never fathom to reach without her! Oh how the heart doth quake in fear at the thought of writing without her protective gaze! Methinks I might suffer the woe of heart! But anyway. Yeah. Thanks. Lady.

Now, if you enjoyed this chapter I will so kindly ask you to tell me what you think (please, please, please review me oh dear God)! Thank you oh-so humbly. Can you tell I'm in a weird mood?


End file.
